


Crime and Punishment

by heiligwings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst!Draco, F/M, Personal Growth, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9292133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heiligwings/pseuds/heiligwings
Summary: Draco struggles to understand how to live after the War, how to live in a new society that rejects everything he has been taught since birth and how to balance this new dilemma with his somewhat light punishment. He matures and struggles to be a proper man, to understand all the pain and sorrow the War caused - that he helped to cause -, to discern between his old belief and what are acceptable values.After so many years trying to mirror the man that turned out to be a weak and foolish figure, Draco finds himself being supported by a group of different ladies that help him through his new journey in this new society scarred from War, prejudices and lost of inocence.





	1. Prelude

**Prelude**

**September, 1998.**

 

Everything was happening in his life like he wasn’t present himself.

Truth to be told, he always have felt as his decisions and opinions were unimportant – and for most of his life, they weren’t; Father and Mother had his path planned since the moment of his birth. What was he if not the product of his parents, after all? He had a surname, titles, fortune, a mansion, a path planned and his position was already secured – _what use his opinions had anyway?_

 

However, that moment seemed _different_.

 

He felt empty, a shell of what he should be and spared of a destiny he probably should’ve had. He was a _war criminal_ , after all. Mind you, not by choice or his outright decision. He had done everything Father wanted and then some more, because Mother was out of tears and he couldn’t bear the thought of she being punished for his father shortcomings and his own failure and cowardice. For all their fortune, Mother ought to have chosen a better family to marry – she was always so dutiful and resilient that he sometimes wondered if she belonged to his House at all. She was the glue that held the family together after Father’s first trial; what kept them all alive during the war.

She was the one whom the title of Head of Family should’ve gone, not him.

After Father’s trial and conviction, he was the one who held her at night while she sobbed for all the pain Father have put the Family through, for all the years he would be locked away, for the relief she felt when Father was spared of the death sentence, and finally for the loneliness that would come the coming years.

He tucked her in bed and whispered sweet nothings to try and ease her worries – he was still there, beside her and he would take care of everything.

His and Mother’s trials were the day after: she was released of all of her accusations. Draco, however, was guilty as charged and he would have his wand taken from him for a period of three years; he would have to pay a lot of money to the Ministry for all his wrongdoings in the years before and during the war; he ought to help the reconstruction of the school; he would have to talk with a therapist every week and if deemed appropriate by the end of a period of one year, he would be realised of the house arrest.

 

His sentence was somewhat light and that was as confusing as fuck. Perhaps because he had plead guilty when asked.

 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby accused of treasure; of three attempts to murder the former Headmaster Albus Dumbledore; of the use of unforgiving curses; of causalities and therefore almost murder of Katia Bell and Ronald Weasley; of pledging allegiance to the terrorist group of Dark Wizards named Death Eaters. How do you plead?” the voice of the Ministry of Magic boomed around the chamber, talking above the flashes of the reporters and the public at the stands behind him.

“Guilty” his voice was firm and emotionless while he heard his mother sharp intake of breath.

“Very well then” the Minister sound surprised as well by his bluntness “we shall hear your defense and then discuss what your punishment shall be”.

The most unexpected thing happened when Shacklebolt asked for a defense attorney to enter and a bloody lanky, _barely-of-age_ young man appeared from the Court’s doors with his modest robed billowing behind him.

He felt as he was underwater or maybe above his body, like an entity - it felt so _out-of-body_ experience that Draco could not describe it like anything else. That or spending the last two years serving a madman has finally got his mind and he would become something akin to his dreadful aunt.

Apparently he had a stupid, recently graduated boy who was so desperate that he would take the job of defending the heir of Malfoy House and a bloody Death Eater. _Figures_ how Mother got the kid in their pockets what with their money and assets frozen in Gringotts since the War was over.

Amazingly enough, Draco was not so angry with Mother giving her memories as testimony of the circumstances surrounding his admission in that bloody murderer group. Hell, the whole Britain could see the sheer despair in his eyes when he returned home from Hogwarts to the knowledge that Father had failed and he should redeem his House in the eyes of the Dark Lord and Draco wouldn't give a fuck if it meant that he wasn't going to rotten in some shitty cell in Azkaban.

To his utter disbelief, Harry sodding Potter was called as a bloody defense witness, recalling to the Court everything the hero had overheard and seen and then their delightful encounter in that miserable bathroom and his almost death by hemorrhage. His amazement was, unfortunately, long lived since the Wizengamot called his mother to report under the Veritessarum and then his mouth literally dropped when the Minister called the next witness.

 

“Hermione Jean Granger”.

 

 _Granger_ grangergranger.

 

He still had nightmares with her screams while being tortured by his mad aunt right at his drawing room, his aunt’s hair going at every direction while she cackled and asked about that damn Gryffindor sword and her eyes looked so out of this planet that he felt petrified even though he could only think _no,_ _nonono_. _Not her, not now._ His nightmares were full of screams and his aunt’s hysterical laugh and sneer and he would wake up wet and sobbing.

Draco couldn't have controlled his face even if he wanted to. His eyes almost fell of its sockets and a look of shame and shock and fear danced through his eyes - the last time he had seen her, she was duelling with a whole lot of Death Eaters while he was trying to find his parents. She had looked so exquisite with magic crackling through her whole body while fighting grown men and women, her eyes set on determination to immobilize them as fast as possible.

In the middle of the Court pertaining his case however, she didn't look at all like that girl. Her head was held high, her voice even while retelling some graphic circumstance in which she was at his Manor, she looked as the epitome of the rightness and justice but her eyes… where they were ablaze while fighting and at their years in the castle, they seemed dull and frightened at the Court. Her fingers twitched even when her hands were resting atop of her lap, her skin was thin and very pale. Though she looked poised, her eyes betrayed her and she looked as broken as he felt, maybe more because he would’ve cracked under the duress that was his aunt’s favorite curse after so long and casted with that horrid passion.

She didn't look at all like the heroine and brains behind the fall of the latest Dark Wizard to terrorize Great Britain and the whole Continent.

“Yes” she confirmed something that his attorney had asked while he was busy scrutinizing her. She swallowed hard “Draco was the one who his aunt asked to identify us because they need to be sure before they summoned Voldemort. They couldn’t make mistake because he was already furious and frustrated with Greendwald and no one wanted to brag they had Harry Potter, his mudblood friend and blood-traitor one to be wrong in the end. So Draco was dragged across the room and shoved into our faces and although I had hexed and disfigured Harry, charmed me and Ron, he could recognize us all because we had spent six years studying and antagonizing each other, so how could he not? He eyed Harry’ scar and he held my gaze, looking unsure what to do because if he did confirm, he would sentence us all to death but if he didn’t and then they discovered the truth, he would surely suffer. So he did neither and said that he couldn’t tell for sure, he supposed but couldn’t confirm.”

He was sure he looked like a fool hearing her testimony but how could he not when she recalled the night she was tortured right in front of him and yet tell them that he somehow, with that tiny action of cowardice, saved their lives? Draco couldn’t be more astonished than he was at that moment, somehow she had payed attention to his subtle actions that screamed how terrified he felt that dark night - the night he was entrusted to identify the only people who could stop the madness that he and the whole wizard community had gotten themselves into.

Maybe he really deserved to go to prison, to pay for his mistakes. He was sure that he didn’t deserved that bright, _bright_ witch to stand up and defend him after everything he and his family had put her through.

When the Wizegamot stated his sentence while he was standing in the middle of the room, jaw set and flashes going on _and on and on_ , he could only stare at that pair of bright brown eyes while a single tear rolled down his face.

He was _freefreefree_.

 

Finally free.

 

Was he not?


	2. Healing

**o1**

_Healing is not the easiest part_

_(on the contrary, is the hardest one)._

 

**December, 1998.**

 

“How do you feel?”

“Worthless”

A flash of surprise passed on her eyes.

“Oh, that’s a new one” his therapist commented after a few moments passed in silence. He fidget in his seat and tried to intake as much air as he could, like she taught him to.

In. Out.

In.

Out.

He opened his eyes and stared right at her blue ones.

“I am just so tired. Tired of everything... Sometimes I wonder why they defended me at all in that courtroom. If I’d had the death sentence or gone to that horrid place with Father, I would understand and accept it and everything would be fine. Now I am stuck here, with you and at the Manor” he spat.

Her eyebrows just rose up. Draco growled undeterred.

“I cannot go to Hogwarts because I’m hexed. Mother spends her time crying after her monthly visit to Azkaban then worrying that Malfoy business has plumed down, that I’m ‘ _too thin, Draco! Dear boy, would kill you to eat while working? And why don’t you invite your friends to talk, darling? I can’t stand seeing you alone like this!_ ’” he mimicked his Mother rolling his eyes.

“You feel worthless and tired because you can’t go anywhere then? You _are_ under house arrest after all”

He finally lost it.

“No, you idiotic woman!” he screeched standing up and pacing “I feel worthless and tired of _living!_ I shouldn’t be here, don’t you understand? It must be some kind of sick revenge of the Golden Trio to try and let me walk free so I will torment myself in reclusion and then go mad!” Draco panted before a sob wrecked his body.

“Why would torment yourself, Draco?” his therapist asked calmly, like he hasn’t just offended her.

“Do you even hear yourself, woman?” he cried “I’ve killed people! All my damned family has and we supported and financially helped that madman, he lived in my bloody house and she was tortured on my fucking floor! How could I be here? Why?” his knees buckled and he fell down, gasping for air.

Ms. Bramley didn’t even blink. She just asked.

“Why shouldn’t you?”

 

~~~~~~~~

**March, 1999.**

 

“You look awful” his therapist’s blue eyes shined while analyzing how his clothes were hanging from his body.

“Thank you” he rasped.

They sat a couple of minutes in silence while Ms. Bramley waited for him to speak and Draco avoided her gaze staring at the window of the plain and boring office.

“How’s work?” she tried and saw his grimace “Well?”

“After last week appointment I returned to my office and couldn’t leave until now” Draco stopped and let out a long suffering sigh “No one wants to do business with my family, so I reached the conclusion that we ought to change the name of our group because as much as people aren’t daft enough to cut business with us due to our _marvellous_ reputation” he dragged the word “the name Malfoy was straining our relationship with business partners and investments banks and so on… As was I. No one wanted to sit on a table with me because my face and mark were plastered at every single newspaper last September. And no one will come near the Manor to seal a deal nor would wanted a floo call as means to do so. I am a convict. Guilty as charged. Not good for PR nor a good face to put at the end of an boarding table. So I’ve appointed Theo and Blaise as co-CEOs.”

“Oh, Draco-”

His palm was up in the air in an instant, interrupting her as he clenched his eyes shut.

“It’s okay, really. I’ve still got the last word about everything so they have to report to me... They are good blokes, you know. I’m lucky that Blaise and his mother stayed the hell away from Britain during the War, their reputation are intact thus a marketable face - he and Theo. While Theo father was marked as well, Theo postponed his marking until the very last battle, the lucky bastard. They are good. We’ve known each other and been friends since diapers. The family business are on good hands”

“I am sure it is. What are you going to do now?”

“I am still working at the Manor office. I have so many things to take care off because Father stopped everything to follow his damned _Lord_ ” he spat the word “And there’s much that I need to learn and read because the Malfoy House has tangled itself with a lot of governments and shite. Also Mother needs to see a healer and take some vacation… I think some therapy like this would be good to her. Merlin knows how I would’ve coped if I couldn’t rant here.”

“I am pleased to hear that you actually appreciate and no longer faces it as a punishment” the woman sounded gleeful.

“Can you do me a favour, Ms. Bramley?”

“Depends of the favour, Draco.”

“Would you tell me about how you manage it? To live without magic, I mean” he tried to sound humble and cringed at his own words “I do not wish to offend you… is just… it had been so difficult these past few months, with no wand. Obviously, Mother and the Elves had been an immense help but I… I feel so hopeless and helpless without it. How do Muggles live like that?”

Ms. Bramley looked pleased with whatever he said and nodded “Very well, then, Draco…”

 

 

~~~~~~~~

 **August, 1999**.

 

“Do you hate me?” Draco asked as soon as he sat on the plush coach.

“Draco! What kind of question is that?” she looked positively horrified and Draco rolled up his sleeve.

“Look at this, Ms. Bramley. This represent the utmost hatred towards your sister and her kind” he shoved his right arm at eyesight “How could you not hate me? I was the very thing that made her run away to America or so you told me. This represent every mean word thrown at her way, every nasty look or jinx she had to suffer during her school years. How can you tolerate my very presence in the same room as you?”

Ms. Bramley stared at him for a long silence, watching his sagged shoulders, his pleadings eyes begging her for something that she could not give. At last, Ms. Bramley folded her hands at her lap and did not break the eye contact with Draco’s silver eyes.

“You know, my sister asked me the very same question. I offered my services to your Ministry to only treat the children who have suffered at the wat. You did what you did, Draco, because you didn’t knew any better and when you did it was too late.”

“You are only repeating-”

“Now, Draco, our meetings are nearing its end and you’ve told me plenty. I gave you a lot to think about in our sessions and I _know_ you’ve been mulling over them. In the following weeks you will be released of the house arrest. What do you plan to do?”

Draco only gaped at her, caught surprised with her statement that she would approve of his rehabilitation as a wizard in the society. She did not feel he was a threat.

“I haven’t got the foggiest!” he stammered and Ms. Bramley only laughed.

“Well, you should think about it. What have you ever want to do but never could?”

“Travel, I suppose. Without a care in the word. Just look at some old place and learn its history. Sweden.” he smiled softly with eyes glazed picturing a far fetched dream.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, the wizardry community in Sweden is millenial. I’ve always wanted to go there but Father and Mother didn’t share my enthusiasm… I suppose now that Mother is in Austria with some distant cousin, and the business is going okay with Theo and Blaise, I could have some vacation where no one recognizes me. Now is a good time as any” he mused out loud and his therapist nodded in approvement.

 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

 **October, 1999**.

 

_Mother,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. How are you? Still in the lovely Vienna or have you decided to go to the countryside? How is cousin Adela?_

_Ms. Bramley gave me a name of another therapist that you can consult with if you desire to do so. I know you don’t want to but I must insist on the matter, Mother. Please, do think about it. The therapy helps heal a lot… I know it’s hard and painful reliving everything, however talk through the pain helps to soothe it afterwards._

_Odd, isn’t it?_

_Muggles apparently know more about how to deal with trauma than us. I am not sure what this say about us or them, but I’m glad that they’ve force me to attend thrapy._

_I think a lot, now. My nights are restless and sleep is as rare as seeing an unicorn. I can’t help it though. Father gave his life and thus mine and yours to that madman, but the Dark Lord was of Grandfather Abraxas time. What does that mean? Are you and Father like me? No questions asked and just doing the family duty or you embraced the blood status crap and its power for another reason entirely?_

_I am trying to make sense of everything. It’s just... so hard._

_Sometimes I hate both of you, but I know it’s only my angriness talking. I know it and nevertheless I feel as I can’t face you nor Father until I find some answers of my own. That’s my reason for not going to stop by Vienna._

_I’m heading North. Without a wand, everything is harder. I went to Muggle London the other day to try and find a library and observe how they manage their lives without magic. Everything is terribly confusing, however I managed to buy a book about camping in the wildness and another one in basic cooking._

_I’ll be in touch._

_Take care, Mother. And don’t worry, the business are fine. Do try and enjoy yourself._

_With love,_

_Draco._

 

 

~~~~~~

 

**December, 1999.**

 

_Mother,_

_I apologize for not contacting you sooner. There have been some… issues on my way to the North. Alas, I’m finally in Stockholm and it’s breathtaking as well as cold. I feel cold in my bones, Mother, even with damn heating charms._

_I've decided to a very unusual trip and went to Normandy in France to start from there up until here. I visited almost all the wizard villages on my way up and it’s been so invigorating. No one know who I am or what I’ve done, I don’t ever give our family name. Never would I dream that someday I would do such a thing, but it made everything easier. I’m traveling with a couple in their 30s from Netherlands and a boy in a mid 20s from India. We are a really odd group, mind you. Pabu eats with his hand and is so very cheerful that sometimes I get a headache. However, they don’t make me feel any less nor like I am royalty like the British do when they hear our name. It’s refreshing._

_Up here is everything I ever hoped and more. The magical community vibrates with magic and it’s wonderful. At the local tavern I’ve met a old lady that told me I look like her late husband when they were kids and I couldn’t help but feel warm. It felt so foreign. I am not sure what it was, but I think it was contempt. It’s bittersweet, actually, to feel it with a complete stranger and have never felt it at home._

_I am not sure I want to go home any time soon, Mother. Over here, with these strange people, they make me laugh and feel carefree and so bloody light. Sometimes these tiny little fleeting moments are enough to get me through the day and not to feel so sad all the time. Am I a coward for running away from home, leaving you alone and Father in prison? Being brave is foolishness but being a coward is shameful and embarrassing. What I should be, then?_

_This little village is millennial, submerged in the viking culture and they’re so ahead of us, Mother. The use of wand is dispensable, not necessary like is it for us. I am thinking of staying for a couple of months and learn with them. They know how to communicate with the very elements of the earth and connect their magic core within their minds and flesh. There’s so much that we don’t know. I am very glad that I decided to come and very grateful to Idun. She reminds me of you in some ways, Mother - not the age, mind you._

_Idun is hosting me and Pabu at her house in a small wizarding village northeast of Stockholm so I will have company in the winter solstice. Idun is warm and kind and I feel like I’m betraying you somehow. I am so sorry, Mother. I hope someday I’ll be enough and deserving of a mother like you._

_I’m glad that you found a therapist in Greece. Do enjoy it, will you?_

_Send word as soon as you can._

_With love,_

_D._

 

 

_~~~~~~_

 

**April, 2000.**

 

_Mother,_

_Can you believe it’s been already more than seven months we last saw each other? I miss you dearly._

_Blaise told me in his last letter that you’re thinking of moving out of the Manor; Where are you planning to live, then? I know how you find Diagon Alley distasteful and noisy. Maybe another village near London? Oh, but you do love the country. Or in Wales, near the shore? You’ve always loved the sea. Perhaps a little cottage will suit you just fine._

_But we ought to discuss it in more details because we cannot sell the Manor, Father would have a fit and you know it. I can’t find in myself to live there alone as well thus I don’t blame you for wanting to move. Maybe we should reform the Manor before Father is released so we can rip out the memories of that madman living and torturing in our house. What do you think?_

_I’ve left Saint Petersburg a few weeks ago and I’m heading southeast and I hope to get to China before long. Idun told me before I left Sweden that I should go there to read olds scrolls and try to meditate. That I would rid myself of my own demons or something. Not sure if she was completely sane but I find myself trusting her like never before. My wandless magic is improving everyday, after all and I do owe her, thus China is my next stop._

_The mountains of the North are incredible, Mother. Such a vision. Soon, there will be only plains and an unbearable heat. You’ll be pleased to know that my drawing and sketching are much better. Perhaps I should’ve been taught more about astrology and philosophy than been allowed to spend that much time playing and being an arse with my so called friends._

_It surprised me to no end to realise that you and Father were always out while Dobby and the tutors raised me. How could I beat him that much if Dobby took care of me like that? It astonishes me._

_We are so brutal, Mother._

_But Idun taught me what it means to be grateful. It’s an odd thing, isn’t it? Do you know what is to be or feel gratefulness? Or you hadn’t taught me because you didn’t know as well?_

_Ms. Bramley told me once that we’ve done the things we did because we didn’t knew any better. Perhaps you and Father didn’t know how to be parents...  Idun told me it’s a very tricky and tiring thing, but rewarding as well when you try it._

_I want to be better, Mother, to do better. Can we be more than only our parents’ byproduct?_

_I hope you are well._

_With love,_

_D._

 

 

 


	3. Battling ghosts

**o2**

_A man or a boy?_

_(we never fully leave our child in the past)_

 

**November, 2000.**

 

His silver eyes flashed when he turned his head up to face the new statue of the British Ministry of Magic. He was sure that part of his galleons paid for the new symbol of this new wizardry society that the Ministry was trying to construct. It was as intricate as it was breathtaking and _huge_ , many magical creatures stood side by side with a witch and a wizard, all of them with their arms, paws and so on raised together in the air sustaining a gigantic and shiny M that floated above - if it standed for Ministry or for Magic, Draco couldn’t tell, and maybe that was the purpose of it.

Theo was correct then when he had told him that the new motto of the Ministry was tolerance, equality and togetherness.

While he stalked to the lifts, Draco could feel stares burning holes at his back and the low whispers following him. It’s been more than two years since he was last seen at the wizard society, and he was sure that while he has gained the weight that he had lost during the two years of his servitude, he bet that he didn’t look all that better - the time traveling did rip him of his paleness, but the hollowness of his eyes and the imposing air and hostility of his strid were still present. He always wondered if he would know how to sleep sounding again and has resigned to the feeling that it was another far fetched dream.

Alas, there he was.

At that damned place, in that horrid, _horrid_ country, facing his fears of walking in the British magical community once more.

He stepped out in the last floor and watched the secretary stutter in greeting while he sat at the waiting coach, taking off his dark cape and draping it in his left arm.

“Draco” the deep voice called and he stood up quickly, walking to Shacklebolt.

“Minister” he bowed his head in respect while the man in question stood aside giving him room to enter his office.

The door clicked shut and Draco allowed himself to sit at one of the chairs in front of the Minister’s desk.

“Thank you for making room to see me, Minister” Draco began and Shacklebolt dismissed him with his big hand.

“Nonsense, boy. Although it’s been a couple of busy years, I was very surprised and curious to receive your letter.”

“Thank you nonetheless, Minister. I have an offer that might interest you and a favour to ask” Shacklebolt nodded his head and Draco took a deep breath “I’ve heard that you have plans to make a place to relive this last war.”

“A museum, yes. It’s a muggle thing, you see, Hermione was telling me a couple of months ago about them and I’ve became very interested. It’s not only to relive the History but, more importantly, not to forget it either. We need to know and remember our mistakes, so magic can be always protected - even of ourselves. We all have the capacity to do great things and terrible ones as well.”

His black eyes shone with an intensity that made Draco drop his gaze.

“I… yes” he cleared his throat “I think this museum will benefit greatly our society. However, it’s my understanding that you’re facing great opposition to get the budget for this project” he paused to assess the Minister face, which was impassive even though his eyebrows have risen up “The Malfoy House would like to contribute financially to the project”

“Would they?” Shacklebolt sounded skeptical.

“Yes, I think the Malfoy House has yet to make up to the wizardry society because of our mistakes.”

The Minister for Magic remained in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Very well then”

“However, it’s not only that, Minister. My House will pay for the whole construction but I want to oversee the whole project, the research, the place’s choice, the display… everything.”

“You will pay for everything?” Shacklebolt raised his left eyebrow, shock evident in his face “Why, Draco?”.

“I don’t want to only give money to the Ministry because I honestly don’t know how you will use it and I am very well versed in politics to know how the pureblood and conservative families still has influence, power and saying in the policies of the Ministry. Therefore, if this museum wants to see the daylight, it must be done outside of the reach of the Wizengamot, thus my House financially supporting the whole process. Besides, my overseeing the whole project is a wish of mine, to tell the whole truth of our side, so not only the winners will tell the History. I think it’s important to see everyone’s side and flaws to understand how we made the whole mess feasible. If your side didn’t have the Order since I don’t know when, Merlin knows how long the War would have lasted. The old Ministry is at as much fault as my family and the Death Eaters.”

“I acquiesce” the Minister said after long minutes mulling over everything that Draco had said “I… that is very mature of you, Draco. I see you’ve changed a lot since the last time we saw each other.”

“Two years is a lot of time to think things through” Draco bobbed his head.

“Yes, it is. Thank you for the offer, Draco.” Shacklebolt stood and gave Draco his hand, which the blonde promptly shook.

“Thank you for accepting it, Minister. I look forward to work in this project with some of your employees. Do send me an owl telling me whom I should expect to contact me soon”

“Will do, boy. Good morning”.

It was only when Draco was waiting for the lift that he allowed himself to take another deep breath and exhale loudly. Dear Merlin, he felt _shaky,_ as shaky as a leaf, coming into the Ministry, and during the whole meeting with the Minister for Magic he tried to suppress his memories of his hearing at the courtroom two years prior.

 

_“How do you plead?”_

 

 _Guilty_. He had said.

 

_Guiltyguiltyguilty._

 

His sentence was almost complete, less than one year and he would have his wand back. It didn’t make him feel less guilty of his crimes and actions.

Would he _always_ be choked trying to swallow the weight of his crimes?

What kind of freedom makes you go home only to feel chained by your own past? He remember Idun telling him that he would never be truly free until he freed himself of the prison he’s made inside his head.

Sometimes that old lady was the most unhelpful witch he’s ever met. She told him that only him could do it. Why not make him feel even more hopeless and helpless than before, right?

“Fifth floor” the lift announced, interrupting his thoughts

He stepped out down a corridor, searching for a signal indicating the offices. He walked quickly, stopping only when he heard a thud near him. Straining his ears, he followed the sound and was shocked to see a slump on the floor, gasping for air.

_Shite._

In four long strides, Draco was at its front and he crouched down, searching for the stranger’s face. He lost all the colour on his face when he recognizes the glazed brown eyes of Hermione bloody Granger.

 _Double shite_. _How_ he ended up in these kind of situations was _beyond_ him.

Her shallow breaths dragged him out of his head and he tried to understand what in the name of Merlin was happening. She looked paralyzed, sucking the air like she was drowning, her eyes glazed and she was whimpering like she was in another place entirely.

“Granger, _can you hear me?_ ” he asked desperately and apparently she could not if her silence was anything to go by. He sat and cupped her cheeks with both of his hands “Listen to me, Granger. I _know_ you are panicking but try and breath with me. _Very slowly._ In. Hold. Out. C’mon, Granger, you can do it” he coached for dreadful long minutes and she stopping gasping “In and out, that’s right. Told you that you could do it. In, hold and out. Like me” he mimicked her actions and pushed her to rest her head in the cold wall, wrapping an arm at her shoulders to give her a sense of the present.

She finally stopped after long minutes and clenched her eyes shut, pulling her knees to her chest and Draco released his tight hold.

“You okay?” he murmured and she shook her head “It’s okay, really. Though you should tell someone you trust that you have these episodes. It’s a scary thing to pass through alone.” he tried not to sound as patronizing as he felt saying those words.

“How would _you_ know?” her tone was sharp but rusky at the edges and a faint smile crossed his lips.

“Apparently it’s a common thing for those who suffered trauma.” he told her sardonically “My therapist called them panic attacks. She was the one who taught me the breath thing. Very ingenious and simple. You have to do it in the beginning otherwise you will be locked inside your head and someone will have to ground you.”

She only grunted for lack of what to say and Draco went on.

“Wonder why they didn’t force you to attend some kind of therapist as well. You and Potter must have gone through a lot of shite in the war.”

“McGonagall tried to make me but I… I _couldn’t_.” she sounded very small, her gaze fixated on the wall in front of her and Draco tried to sound sympathetic.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I had the choice. However, I am glad that I didn’t and the Ministry forced me to do it as part of my sentence. My therapist was very blunt and straightforward, didn’t give a shite for my whimperings - it was a relief, someone treating you like you were just someone in the crowd. You should try it now. It’s hard to cope with… everything”.

The most praised heroine of Britain didn’t say anything and Draco cleared his throat.

“Well, then. I am glad that I could be of help. Good day, Granger” he stood up, dusting himself off the dirty on his robes and turned on his heels.

“Draco” her voice sounded faint and he stopped on his tracks “thank you”.

He just nodded, looking over his shoulders “Get better, Granger.” and he went on his way, looking for Blaise’s new office at the International Cooperation of Magic Department.

“Liking the new job?” he questioned after rasping his knuckles at the door frame. The black man looked up from his papers and smirked.

“Even if I was cleaning teacups I would enjoy it! You have to excuse, mate, but that bloody company of yours sucked all of my energies. Thank Merlin you came back from your reclusion” he and Draco shared a laugh.

“Thank you for giving me a hand when I was desperate” the blonde said and Blaised dismissed him with a gesture of his hand.

“What are mates for, eh?” he grinned “And I wouldn’t turn down a payment like that. Let’s grab some lunch, these boring papers are killing me” he whined and Draco shook his head in amusement, leading his childhood friend to the Ministry lift. “Tell me all about your meeting, wanker!”

Draco glanced down to the hallway that he crossed paths with the Gryffindor and then started retelling his morning meeting with the Minister.

 

 

He wrote an address and his therapist name in a piece of parchment and send it to Hermione Granger when he got home.

 

 

~~~~~~

 

**January, 2001.**

 

“Mother” he pinched the bridge of his nose when he saw his mother walking to him “what are you doing here?”.

“Well, hello to you too, darling. I’m marvellous, thank you for asking” Narcissa rolled her eyes before pecking him on the check “And what question is that, young man? I’ll have you know that this Manor is as mine as it’s yours. Do try and be more respectful to me, dear”.

Draco huffed and crossed his arms to prevent the chilling air from freezing his bones. He eyed in silence the wizards going in and out of his family Manor before answering his mother.

“I apologize for the rudeness, Mother, however I perfectly remember telling you that I would want you to come after the winter, when the reform would be finished so you could work on your precious garden.” he grunted turning his head towards his Mother.

“You are so darling” her smile reached her eyes and Narcissa cupped his right cheek “Alas, you concern yourself over nothing. I’m very capable of being out and about in the winter, I am not sure if you remember, dear, but we _are_ wizards therefore a simple charm will provide the necessary warmth.” she told him gleeful and then lowered her voice and Draco narrowed his eyes “I must confess that I wanted to see the new design with the head of the team. I’ve always wanted to modify this dreadful gargoyles and all the black marble, doesn’t make it inviting nor homey”.

Well, now he _couldn’t be_ cross with his mother he thought before smiling to that beautiful, beautiful woman standing in front of him.

“Come, Mother, Mr. Descoteaux will be very pleased to hear your insights to the new design” he kissed her knuckles before grabbing her hand and pulling her along.

When they stepped inside, Narcissa eyed the parlor which was still intact while her son called for Mr. Descoteaux using a wandless _sonorus_ . Her boy looked very much like a _man_ since he returned from his unusual trip, hard around the edges, tired but confident of his actions and words, he didn’t doubt himself anymore nor did he hide behind his father’s figure. So grown up that Mrs. Malfoy had to force herself to remember the extenuating circumstances regarding her son’s early manliness.

“Madame Malfoy” a short and lean man exclaimed scurrying to meet her, kissing her knuckles quickly and beaming to the aristocratic woman “Oh, what a pleasure to meet you! Indeed, I was beyond myself when your son showed up at my office talking about an enormous reform in this magnifiquè Mansion.” the boisterous man went on “Your garden is so _exquisite!_ I must confess that I planned the new design to complement your marvellous garden! Of course, we will put as many windows, balconies and french doors as the design flow allow us!”

“That’s very kind, Monsieur Descoteaux, I’ve spend more than a decade doing that garden myself. Aside from Draco, it's the only thing I am very proud of” Narcissa said cheekily and Draco rolled his eyes at the man’s antics and his mother’s charm. He was very pleased with himself for choosing Descoteaux office to handle the Manor’s reform and his only demands were to get rid of the dungeons as well as to make the Manor brighter, white marble and perhaps ceiling to floor windows. The wood panels and black marble only made the Manor look more impersonal and _dark_ . He no longer could deal with anything resembling his past and his _Dark Lord_.

Draco excused himself and went to the kitchen, the only safe place in the whole madness that was the Mansion for the last three weeks. He remembered, shuddering, all the packing, labeling and talking about flow design that had occupied his life since the new year began.

 _Never_ would he do another bloody reform, one per lifetime was more than enough.

He told the Elves to prepare something Mother liked for both of them and resume his readings at the table until Mother came and joined him at the table.

“You look tense, darling.”

“Why, so very kind of you to point it out, Mother” he snorted “It’s a very tedious job, no wonder Father hated it.”

“Please, your father hated everything that wasn’t politics, dear. He was most pleased when his father passed away so he could finally step in at the Wizengamot.”

“How very tactful of Father” Draco couldn’t retain his snide and Narcissa clacked her tongue in admonishment.

“If you can’t handle visiting your father in prison, that’s okay. But it does not make him anything less than your father. Do try to remember that, darling”.

Draco bit his tongue and mumbled an apology but shrugged his mother’s hand when she placed it on his shoulders.

“I know it’s hard, Drac-”

“ _No_ , you don’t _know,_ Mother.” he interrupted standing up abruptly “You chose him, you chose to marry in this family and while I know the Blacks are very similar to our own family.... your father didn’t make you pledge your life to that madman nor did he fail and you had to take his place. You chose to enter a family that already had pledged itself... You don’t understand, Mother, and no one _knows_ how this _destroys_ my very person and its core.”

There were a couple of minutes in silence, in which the only movement was a tear rolling down from Narcissa’s eyes.

“I _am_ sorry, so very sorry, Draco” he shook his head.

“I don’t want _your_ apology, Mother, I don’t hold you accountable in this equation. But don’t ask to me to visit nor talk with Father, at least not now… I _can’t_ ” he whispered softly in agony.

“Of course, honey” she nodded “But you will have to forgive your father someday… and forgive yourself. You were not at fault, darling. Please, listen to me”.

He nodded, at loss of words to reply his mother and called for lunch to the Elves. They talked pleasantries during the lunch, he asked about her therapy sessions and when she was planning to do her next vacations. His mother, on the other hand, asked about the family company and his project with the Minister.

“You should go back to that darling therapist, Draco. You are beginning to look pale, grumpy and hollow - I don’t want you going back to what you were that year” she plead before kissing his face and apparating at their cottage in Wales.

He wondered, grabbing a piece of parchment, _how_ his mother knew what to say and when to do so. It seems that Ms. Bramley would be a weekly presence on his life again. And this time, by his own choice.

Yeah, it seem like he was getting a hold of this whole ‘making decisions’ thing that people complain about.

He wondered if they would complain if they had been in his shoes.

 

Ha.

 

People _are_ so daft sometimes.


	4. Paths to grow

  


**o3**

 

_Moving on from legacy_

_(It never truly leaves you, you just have to outgrow it)_

  


**May, 2001.**

 

Draco sat on a very uncomfortable chair in the waiting area of his therapist’s office in Muggle London, eyeing very confusing and strange devices that were in display in the room.

Oh boy. He did actually manage to interact with the only other Muggle that he met in his life without embarrassing himself, and that had to count for something, right? Ms. Bramley’s secretary was much older than her employer and the wrinkles in her eyes made Draco cringe. Some refinement in one’s appearance is important when working, his mother would say.

Now that he managed to willingly come to these appointments that were not part of his sentence, he couldn’t go to Mr. Bramley little room in the Ministry of Magic. She said that she would attend him like he was another patient thus he should come to Muggle London. Draco was sure she had some twisted sense of humour and was actually amused with the prospect of making Draco Malfoy interact on a weekly basis with Muggles.

Thus Draco was subjecting himself to commute in Muggle’s ways and has been pleasantly surprised with himself for not standing out in the crowd like a total buffon. Months of coming and going and begrudgingly asking all sorts of question to his therapist, Draco was sure he could handle himself pretty well in Muggle world what with his non-existent knowledge of Muggles before this arrangement.

Although he still felt weird observing non magical people talking alone in little boxes by the ear.

Besides his bewilderment regarding what his therapist called ‘technology’, Draco thought he was taking his contact with the Muggle world pretty well, all things considered. He was sure his Father would snide and bark a lot if he knew Draco was going every week to the non magical world and every time tried something a little bolder than the week before. Mother told Draco months ago how his father was raised to be in a world dominated by the Dark Lord, it was not, his Mother confessed, some abstract idea for Lucius but a belief intricate on his own being.

“Your Grandfather had always being great at reading people and politicians and had bet all his Galleons on Tom Riddle. Your father never knew anything other than the Dark Lord’s doctrine. He never paid attention to the other things Grandfather tried to teach him.”

How very unfortunate, she said after a while and Draco had to control himself not to snort at his mother. Unfortunate indeed he had thought darkly, like I almost haven’t paid with my life.

Alas, Draco found himself surprised when discovered that his hatred towards Muggles-borns was not deep and as passionate as was Father’s. Mr. Bramley seemed bright and the Muggles in the street did seem to know how to live with their lack of magical abilities and to compensate with their technological thing. They didn’t seem at all like the Muggles the books portrayed and Draco thought that maybe the _had_ move on of their mad Inquisition period and ridiculous beliefs that burning wizards would make magic go away.

“Draco” the sound of Ms. Bramley’s voice broke into his musings and Draco stood up and entered her office quietly.

“I apologize for having to change the day this week.”

“It isn’t a problem” she dismissed him lightly and then arched a brow.

“I… Well, there’s been a lot of problems to deal with at my family’s business” he scowled “apparently Father hadn’t bothered to oversee the numbers and a team of key people had been made to steal our bloody money right underneath our noses!” he was seething and began pacing.

“Oh Lord, for how long?”

“I don’t know, Father didn’t care shit about it because his diaries are all about Ministry’s policies and politics and sodding Death Eaters’ plans.”

There was a long silence in which the only sound was of Draco’s deep breaths.

“If Theo wasn’t such good at Arithmancy, I honestly have no idea how long we would discover. I knew there was something wrong with the business, I can’t recall one bloody memory of Father being called to deal with it whatsoever. I knew it, that’s why I told Theo to gather every briefing with our number on it and have a look. We’ve been pouring ourselves in documents going back more than a decade and it’s so obvious that I want to strangulate Father!”

“Oh, so you are having violent urges again?”

“I am not, you daft woman! Pay attention, I am royally pissed at Father. I mean, how could him? We’ve been made fools for years! That’s not acceptable”

“I think we ought to deal with your issues with your Father”

His jaw dropped and he gaped at the woman in front of him.

“Are you serious?”

“I mean, not now. You are obviously very angry and rightly so… not so much that is reasonable to be violent, but still rightly angry. So what are you gonna do with this piece of information in your family business?”

“I haven’t been sorted in Slytherin only because my family has always been so” his silver eyes clouded and narrowed “Theo and I are drafting a plan that involves utter humiliation and, mostly, my money back. We are sacking a lot of people, so these next months are going to be dreadful.”

“Sounds stressful.”

“Tell me about it. I feel like drowning… Anyway, I definitely must not drown in self pity. The business is mostly investment and there's a lot of opportunities in reconstruction and rebuilding a damaged society after such a tragic war.”

“That's terrible, Draco!” she admonished.

“Oi! Don't turn that on me, Bramley. I’m only sizing the opportunity. Besides, I will be providing the money for the reconstruction, which I think is only fair giving my Mark and all. I am just not throwing to the window the bonus of making profits along the way. It doesn't make me bad. If I wouldn't, someone else would.

“I thought you didn't have a knack to be a businessman?”

“Malfoys take care of their own. It just so happens that our assets must be taken care off just as much. We’ve always been influential, well connected and rich.”

“How fortunate”

After talking some more, Draco finally exited her office, mentally kicking himself to mention the little gather together Blaise was practically forcing him to go. It made Ms. Bramley's eyes shine with surprised and expectations for him, like she was excited for him resurrecting his social life. Just because he was always busy with the Manor and the business, and reading ancient family's diaries when time was forgiving, it didn't mean that he was inept nor friendless. Theo was there everyday, he had lunch weekly with Blaise until Easter and Pansy was in bloody Turkey trying to get away from the scars the War have done to her family. Vincent was fucking dead and no one could make Greg talk. What was he supposed to do? He tried enough considering how busy he was.

But now Blaise threatened to drag him to this gather together at Blaise’s Manor with some old schoolmates and Pansy was coming back for good and the old gang should finally get together and throw some alcohol in and not feel sad or devastated anymore because of that damned war. At least, that was what he had said in his letter and Draco didn't doubt Blaise would literally drag him pulling and screaming. _Better go with dignity_.

However all thoughts left him the moment he passed through the waiting room and he saw someone familiar slumped in one of the chairs. She looked much better than when he’d helped her, her brown, _brown_ eyes weren't frightened like the other but they seemed as tired.

He wasn't sure that he'd gasped, although the way her eyes have snapped at his direction was telling. Maybe his eyes were saucers but he couldn't tell, couldn't do anything other than stare at her, trying to understand… something, anything that would help quell the insecurities that surfaced in her presence. _Probably conscience and guiltiness._

Could she ever forgive him?

The silence was stretching and she didn't seem bothered by it. He was even sure that she hadn't listened what his (theirs?) therapist said. The hairs at the end of his neck were standing up and he didn't know what to do or say. Only stare.

Was she better?

“Malfoy” Granger was the first to broke their pactual silence. Always the bolder.

Braver.

Gryffindor.

“I am glad you've come to your senses” he nodded then cringed at his poor worded statement “Ms. Bramley's good.”

“Yes, she is.”

And then she was gone. Passed through him like he was a piece of the furniture, went down the hall and left him standing there like a fool.

He did feel foolish.

He sat down to mull over that strange, _fucking_ odd interaction. Maybe he was weirded out because he had never expected to see her any time soon after the last time the year before. He hadn't thought about her _at all_ , didn't have a clue that she'd took his piece of advice and have decided his friendly and odd therapist was good enough for her and her problems and trauma, one of which he was sure was the torture in his bloody Manor.

Why was she _always_ so polite in his presence? For Salazar, the name he tormented her was carved at her skin after much pain and bloodshed. _How_ could she _stand_ him?

Perhaps she couldn't and was fuming inside. Could be so perfect and forgiving? Human beings weren't that capable. He was sure of it.

Well, she looked less hunted.

He had done his good deed, right?

Draco hastily got up, not wanting to face Hermione Granger twice on the same day, and began his way to a quiet alley where he appareted home. He took a long bath and changed for something lighter for the night out, slacks and a blue long sleeved shirt, and went to warn Mother that he would spend the night away with his school friends. Her delight was even worse than Ms. Bramley and he made sure to go as fast as he could.

He proceeded to stop by at a small market on the village nearby his cottage to buy three bottles of Firewhiskey so he wouldn’t show up to a party empty handed; he _was_ most courteous after all. It did help him to buy some time. It was the first time since he was sixteen that he would be surrounded by _that_ many people at once and not being judged for his wrong doings he’d done until that point in his life. He would be the only one with that bloody Mark at his forearm tonight, he always had been the only teen that has been punished at his Father’s failures. While most of them were the kids of Death Eaters, he was the only one burned and marked, the one who could’ve been sent to spend the rest of his days in Azkaban.

By Salazar’s beard, maybe he should open the bottle before showing up. How would the others react when he entered the place, free as a bird when they parents with the very same mark would be dying in that terrifying prison?

With a _pop!_ he disappareted to a spot near his friend’s house and opened the bottle to take his first gulp after deeming to risky drink before appareting.   _To an awkward and probably unbearable night!_ , he thought raising one of the bottles to the sky in cheers before drinking the amber liquid again.

Definitely awkward if only because the last interaction he really had had with Pansy, he told her to back off because he was too busy studying for the OWLs, being a prefect and trying to catch Potter in the Inquisitive Squad back in the fifth year and he couldn’t handle her needs nor her whining for attention. Grimacing when he recalled such _atrocious_ words pouring off his mouth, he lifted the bottle to his lips admonishing himself for being such a self-centered prick. If he hadn’t been basically sentenced to death by the Dark Lord in their sixth year, he would’ve probably make matters worse with the two of them. Perhaps it was a good thing that this confrontation was left to be dealt with after so long, now he was older and more mature, he could apologize for being an arse and she would probably smack him in the face like Granger had done years earlier.

 _Granger_ , he groaned recalling their bizarre meeting at Ms. Bramley’s waiting room. He tried to compare the fierce girl who broke his nose because he wanted a gigantic chicken dead to the emotionless woman at Muggle London. She had such a good hook but then lost all her eye’s fire and passion.

Did the war broke Hermione Granger and her mission to righten all that was wrong and unfair in the magical world?

“Oi! I thought you’d bail on us!” Theo yelled when he caught a glance at the blonde entering the house.

“I still believe I should’ve.”

“Stop being a git” Theo rolled his eyes while hanging his scarf and cape, obviously also having just arrived.

“A git bearing alcohol.”

“A rich git, then.”

Draco just handed the open bottle to his friend, whose blue eyes sparkled with delight.

“We’ve seen each other for the bloody entire week, mate. And then come to the same party. People are gonna think we are dating.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Nott.” Draco tried to deadpan but could feel his lips quirking a little upwards while they made to the big room on the left, where the party was being held.

There was a moderate number of people, all of them belonging to the Slytherin House when they’d attended the school, a couple of years older and younger, however Draco was definitely sure he knew all of them. He could feel gazes lingering on his back while he and Theo made theirs ways to Blaise, who was talking to a couple of guys.

“Brought a couple of good whiskey, you wanker” Draco pushed the other to bottles up to Blaise’s chest “You’re welcome.”

“Nice to see you too, mate” the handsome man replied.

Blaise introduced everyone and made small talk about the two other’s job at the Ministry and Theo made the most of the talk.

Truth to be told, Draco didn’t know how to feel interacting with strange people and not have the war being brought up. He just felt out of place and tried to remember his parent’s lessons in being able to talk about everything because he was from an important family and people would want to ask him for favours and he should be good at manipulating people.

That seemed so long ago that he had to fight a nausea coming.

Most of the night he tried to do just that, make small talk, seem approachable (because you never know when you’ll need a favour) and not to be a gigantic arsehole like he was at school. Blaise and Theo were freaking him out though, looking like a couple of proud parents. Draco knew they worried that he would only speak with them, his mother and therapist, but how could Draco just up and say that he didn’t have any friends besides the two of them? It would be utterly humiliating. Thus, Draco remained quiet and always said he was busy and trying to understand everything.

Which was also true, however he could spend the better half of his life thinking and not get enough answers, may as well live a little in the present. That was the advice his mother gave him the other day and he had taken it wholeheartedly. He had dove all in at his work, after all.

“You look like someone’s killed your Hippogriff” someone told him when he was preparing another glass of whiskey.

“I was the one that wanted to kill that Hippogriff” he told them half-heartedly and turned after finishing his drink.

Draco hadn’t expected a stunning blond with bright green eyes to be talking and laughing at his words. She looked genuine though. That was what most astonished him.

“I know, I remember when you moaned about your arm through the whole afternoon at our common room after being okayed by Pomfrey.” she teased and he gulped.

“I don’t remember you and I can assure you that I know all my classmate’s names.” he tried to not sound awful confessing his lack of recognition, however the woman’s smile only grew.

“Perhaps you may recognize the Greengass name but I doubt you would recognize my sister”

“I take you are her little sister, two years her junior?”

“Indeed, you have a perfect memory” she smirked and offered her hand introducing herself “Astoria.”

“Draco” he replied even if he was sure it wasn’t necessary. Draco grabbed her hand and kissed it to the girl’s surprise “pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise” her honestly smiled seemed to Draco like a breath of fresh air and he focused on the woman “Although you look like you’ve been forced to attend this little… gathering.”

“Are you keen on observing people? I must say I’m impressed that you managed to see through my charming mask” he drawled and Astoria looked amused instead of offended.

“Perhaps you aren’t trying hard enough, young man” she egged him on “however, I must say that Daphne dragged me here as well. I didn’t think this crowd would make a good party and I’m disappointed to say I was right” she told him on a bored tone and he laughed.

“Perhaps our lot would be less gloomy if our parents weren’t in prison or dead.” Draco deadpanned and Astoria’s eyebrows rose up to her hairline at the same time her lips curved into a sly smirk.

“Perhaps I should be looking to meet more Gryffindors then, their parties must be insane”.

Draco chuckled, shaking his head and started to make another glass of whiskey, he added ice and offered it to that strange girl with dark humour and no qualms whatsoever. To his utter surprise, they spend most of the night talking alone on a coach afar from the people mingling and drinking. She didn't make him feel like he was on the spotlight nor as he was being constantly judged. His first perception of her, that she seemed as a breath of fresh air was only reinforced through the night and their pleasantly chatting - not the boring and stiffly awkward small talk he was doing before and that he knew so well at his youth having to attend horrible parties with his parents. Astoria Greengass talked to him like she was curious and genuinely liking to spend her time there, and it made him stare at her dumbfounded sometimes. She was turning to be just as intelligent and witty as him and her eyes seemed to always sparkle with mirth and amusement.

He only stopped their conversation when he got a glimpse of Pansy Parkinson finally alone with Blaise. Draco excused himself and promised to come back, then marched up to both of his friend and apologized to Pansy for being an arse and treating her poorly at Hogwarts, asked for another chance at being friends because he truly missed the short tempered brunette and that if she could find in herself to forgive him, he would treasure her and their friendship. Pansy looked so stunned that she could only gape at him and nodded dumbly. Draco smiled, kissed her cheek and bid them a quickly bye, then went on his way back to the coach and to the gracious smile of Astoria Greengass and her easy going attitude.

  
  


~~~~~~~

 

**August, 2001.**

 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. It was the first time he would appear in front of his whole company since stepping in once his father were incarcerated. He’d sacked a third of his former working force, the sodding group that was robbing him right under his nose. He was dressed in grey robes with his arms crossed at his chest and a slight frown on his face while he observed his employees squirming under his relentless gaze.

“I don't know how you used to work for my Father” he began, his voice deep and emotionless “but I will no longer tolerate shady work nor less than efficient performance from each and every single one of you.” He put his hands at his pants pockets and slowly walked from one side to the other. “We are a traditional company and excellence should be our main goal. I've sacked a lot of people and I am not afraid to keep it going if I find it necessary. We have re-structured all the company and all of the new directors are very competent in their abilities. Do please come to the human resources if you need to complain about anymething, do not hesitate as we need all the cooperation to work as smoothly as we can. Mr. Nott is still at the position of my under secretary and will be, as usual, watching all of you.” Draco stated softly even though his eyes were steeled and cold, sweeping the room and watched the shocked expression in their faces. He smiled briefly, “I hope you all continue to be great assets to the company and will help me expand it. You may go.”

As people scattered off the room, Draco shifted his glance towards the ceiling, the brand new crystal chandelier made the room look bigger and somewhat fancier, he hummed in satisfaction at foresight in leaving the old company’s building and moving to this recently reformed centuries old one at Diagon Alley. It was a three store building, with a grand mahogany doors and a small balcony on the third floor, which gave him a pretty good view of the magical community. The old look and discreet air didn’t give away the company, there was no name nor plaque, only people who knew their company would know it was there. Draco wanted it for that reason alone, he could not stand the downturn the company had suffered since the war and bad mouthed name, so he changed the name, moved to another space and hired new people.

“You scared them” Theo say casually, leaning on the wall behind Draco, looking the staircase at the end of the room.

“I did not do such a thing”

“You did, but I think you straighten up. Now they’ve been warned and aren’t gonna do shit against our back. Therefore, no need to scare them any further.”

“Yeah, I know, they ought to work better out of respect rather than fear,” Draco rolled his eyes “I know.”

When they made their way up the stairs, Theo stayed at his office on the second floor with all the others employees, as it was, of course, magically expanded - and Draco went up his own, the only office at the floor with only another three conferences rooms, his secretary’s desk and a toilette. It didn’t seem to be intimidating, on the contrary, the wood panels and the comfortable settee made it more comfortable than the sterilized old headquarters. The french doors at the end of his office, right behind his desk and leather chair, opened up to the balcony. The right wall was from ceiling to floor covered in a bookcase and the opposite wall had a nice fireplace and marble mantle, a couch and one plushy chair as he knew he would spend many nights reading and going over their numbers.

He sighed and opened his briefcase, grabbing the mass of papers and started to read.

 

*

 

“I miss the days I traveled. Now I’m stuck here.” he mumbled and Ms. Bramley raised a single eyebrow.

“I thought you were excited in the prospect of moving to Diagon Alley and starting the company over?”

“I did, I do… it’s just that, I feel like I’m old and that I’ll be doing this thing of waking up, go to the office, refrain myself of smacking people for their inane questions and problems, try to not pull my hair out in meetings, go home, talk to Mother, read old diaries and go to bed.”

“It does sounds dull”

His eyes flashed in anger.

“Why don’t you do something that you like?”

“I don’t know what I like.” his eyes narrowed and he huffed. “How did you discovered you wanted to be a therapist?”

His questions seemed to caught her off guard and he smiled internally with satisfaction.

“I am not supposed to tell you about myself, this is not a friendship, Draco,” she crossed her ankles and he only stared at her, she rolled her eyes at him then. “Okay, maybe this will enlighten you somehow… After we graduate from school, we Muggles go to universities to pursue some field a little deeper. On the first two years, you can do any obligatory classes and hopefully one of them will interest you to further your knowledge on the last two years of university. Then you get a degree on that area of study and you get to do what you want.”

“Why would go to school for another four years?”

“Because when we graduate at seventeen we are far too young to know what to do the rest of our lives, so you either start working at whatever or you go to university to get more four years to mull over our options and our likes. Most of people who go there for that reason, the others need it to go to law or medical school, to be an engineer or to be a scholar because they like to study something very specific.”

“So you don’t have this pressure to be out and about that early?” he furrowed his brows in distaste and envy.

“We are always pressure to be perfect our whole lives, Draco. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the Muggle or Magical world that you live. It’s great to have four more years to think everything over, that’s for sure, but people will always demand something of you, no matter what stage at your life you’re in or what you do, you have to be the best and get rich and have a nice car and so on…”

Draco mulled over at her words in silence for long minutes.

“I don’t suppose you guys have a field that questions and looks for answers to understand all the shite in the world.”

“Yup” she nodded excited “it’s called philosophy. Maybe it would placate your angst.”

Draco rolled his eyes at her words and stood up.

“Our hour is up and I have dinner with Astoria today.”

“Oh, the girl you are dating?”

“We are not dating! We only go out sometimes and talk.”

“Don’t need to become so defensive, Draco, I’m supposed to know about everything in your life.” she smiled and opened her door to him.

“Do try to sound less creepy, please.” he shook his head and went away hearing his idiotic therapist’s chuckles fading away.

He passed through the door and saw her again slumped at one of the chairs in the waiting area. He frowned thinking she would waste her Friday night scheduling a session at six in the evening. Her head snapped up and their eyes met once more. He nodded his head in greeting and she returned the gesture.

He left the office and left the damaged heroine behind.

 

She was never far from his mind though.

 


	5. Family Ties

**o4**

 

_ You never chooses the family you’re born into _

_ (You always choose what family you want to have tho) _

 

**September, 2001** .

  
Narcissa had asked for Draco to be at their small and cozy library at the cottage as soon as he would wake up as their breakfast would be there, one of their Elves informed him.

Confused, he put a silk black robe over his bare chest and his fluffy house shoes. Draco made his way thinking what bizarre thing must have happened overnight for Mother summon him so early in the morning, as she usually preferred to wake up later and have a brunch looking over the shore a couple of meters in front of them.

His mother looked as beautiful and gracious as ever sitting at one of the chairs reading a novel with tiny glasses perched at the end of her nose, even more so with the time passing like a refined wine. She’d cut her hair the last summer just shy above her shoulders making her look so much younger than her 50s and the worry lines had disappeared, for which Draco would be forever grateful since she hadn't looked that light since the Dark Lord had come back to live.

“Mother” he pecked her cheek softly before sitting right next to her.

“Oh, Draco” she grabbed his hand and squeezed, “you look handsome, son”.

“I am sure you didn't want my company to flatter my ego, Mother” he smiled with amusement at his mother rolling her eyes so far back he was slightly afraid they would not come back.

“Don't sass me this early in the morning, young man” Narcissa tried to look stern however she couldn't hide the curve of her lips from him.

They talked a bit of everything while having breakfast, he was happily surprised to hear that she wished to travel to America sometime soon. Narcissa was delighted to hear her son and Astoria Greengrass were somehow courting each other, which didn't make much of sense to Draco one wanting to date a Death Eater and sentenced man. His mother shush him, not wanting to hear his nonsense anymore.

“Alas, what I wanted to discuss with you are in some way related to what you've said.”

She told him enigmatically, putting her tea at the small table placed in front of them and turning fully to face her son. He could only mirror her for he was puzzled beyond words.

“Darling, this last June you've turned twenty-one years old” she grabbed his hand once more “and have finally become a re-instated as a _fully_ _wizard_ this past week by the British Ministry of Magic. You are no longer a convict and while I have treasured this for the last three years, this is not mine nor what it means is my place.”

He stared at his mother dumbfounded while she produced a tiny box out of thin air and opened it for Draco. The bright emerald carved, with crystals and surrounded by Goblin's iron settee represented the head of Malfoy House, more than ten centuries old and passed along for generations. When he finally lifted his eyes to his Mother, Narcissa continued, her voice thick.

“With your father at Azkaban for the years to come and you of age and the legitimate heir, this is rightfully yours.” Draco shook his head but Mother put a firm hand over his knee. “It  _ is _ , Draco. There is no greater honour and though you have already done much more for this family than the former Head” she indicated briefly the ring with her head “I hope this will give you the confidence you need, the courage and wisdom that you will need in moments to come. And that it doesn't overwhelm nor pressures you… You have already proved yourself to be an extraordinary wizard, being able to do wandless magic easily since you have visited Sweden. Your sentence has become empty” she smiled wholeheartedly “and because you have simply wanted, you overcome a necessity out of your will and faith in yourself, son. And I  _ am so very proud _ of the man you've grown into and how you've dealt with all of… this. You already do things as a Head of House. I'm only making it official.”

He could only stare at his mother, white noise filling his ears and unbeknownst to him, he cried silently and softly, slightly shooking his head a no. 

“ _ Please _ , Mother” he barked, his voice deformed by thickness and emotion, “I cannot”. He abruptly stood up, almost knocking the table over and after two steps he collapsed on the floor.

“Draco!” Narcissa screamed, kneeling beside him while his body shaking through his sobs.

For the first time, Narcissa could seem what her boy had done along the past three years to mask his fears insecurities. She could see, then, a terrified boy whose body has grown although his own mind was similar to the little ones that have his beliefs and truths suddenly rip right off him, letting the  _ flesh open _ and hurting.

Narcissa cried along her son, regretting her life's choices and, above all else, being always distant because that was how she and Lucius had been raised and that was the way it was supposed to be. She cried for marrying a man that blindly followed a madman that  _ almost _ had  _ killed _ their boy; cried for the lost opportunity to be there for Draco come with his doubts and fears; cried for all that Draco lost, the teenage years that were spent trying to emulate his father and then scared of death and failure, cracking under the weight of murder. She finally cried for his early adulthood, spent trying to understand what and who he was, what he was supposed to be and trying to redeem his family name and legacy. She cried for herself, for the years stolen by the war and the sorrowful incarceration of her husband. She cried for not knowing a life of being free.

She put a trembling hand on Draco's soft and shaggy hair, and after hesitating a moment she pulled her son to her body and let him cry on her shoulder while she could only apologise.

After long, long moments, maybe hours Draco finally stopped crying and stayed a moment longer at his mother embrace, surrounded by her smell and kindness. She kissed the top of his head and he finally lifted it to glance at his mother, searching for her eyes and something, anything in it. She smiled softly and briefly, nodding at him.

“You will never be alone again” she promised.

“I am not sure I can be the Head, Mother” he whispered, still looking at her eyes without breaking the contact.

“You already are, my sweet boy. Lucius is not the most fitting for the position and I am the only one who was left to make this decision. The Head looks after the whole family, my dear, and you've been doing it since you're sixteen. Your father  _ failed us _ all in 1995 then again three years after, being incarcerated for the second time. You're the  _ only one _ I trust to protect and carry on this family.” she whispered back, softly, cupping one of his cheeks with her hand and securing him in the place.

He nodded, firmly.

“I won't let you down, Mother. You will not suffer again, I  _ promise you _ .”

She smiled and kissed his cheek, nodding. She opened her palm up, where the Malfoy Family ring rested. Draco stared at it for a moment then grabbed it and put on his fourth finger of his right hand. It caught the sunlight and shined, the centuries old magic coming to life and changing everything under Lucius Malfoy name to Draco's one, the titles, the account in Gringotts bank and most importantly, the place at the Wizengamot. All of the family's tree changed to Draco the symbol of the Head of Malfoy House. 

Every single wizard in the world would know that the Malfoy Family had a new Head.

Draco kissed his mother hand and stood up, embarrassed for have crying in front of his mother like a child. Her eyes though, they told him that he would not have accepted it if they didn't share this awkward and heartfelt moment with Mother. He conceded. It was true. 

He needed a moment alone.

“I will be in my room, Mother.”

  
  


~~~~~

  
  


**November, 2001** .

 

Draco crossed his arms and leaned back on the brick wall. The mid-November air was ice cold and the wind was picking up in the late Friday night. His thick black cloak and his grey scarf were helping to keep him arm as he waited outside the building.

He closed his eyes, tired of the week. The Manor was finally,  _ finally _ ready, the tremendous amount of work of the whole year had paid off in the end, he thought satisfied. He and Mother had been there to oversee the finishing touches early the week, organising the new library that occupied now two floor and had two side offices each side, on the right for Father, on the left his own. The library was the new centerpiece of the Manor, by far the biggest room alongside the ballroom. The back wall as all of glasses, from ceiling to floor of both floors, there were two marble staircases far on both sides, leading to the loft of the second floor, full of bookcases. There was an enormous crystal chandelier and an equally big fireplace at the left, a couple of chairs and to the other side there were couches and a chair, a piano in the front wall a bookcases covering the right wall and the back of the room. Draco has demanded for the Malfoy Family Tapestry to be set on the front wall, easily seen for the whole room and proudly showing the Malfoy ancestry.

It had been a bitch of a job to organise all their bloody books. They were being stacked for ten centuries, thus it was no small feat. The diaries belonging to their ancestors were hidden in the corner of the far right of the loft, alongside with the Dark Arts books. Together they occupied more than half of the bookcases on the second floor. His and Father's offices were only accessible from the second floor of the library, each with another door leading only to their rooms and both with intricate wards to keep everyone off limits.

The rest of the Manor has been decorated as Mother wanted, the kitchen and dining room her favorites. Hers and Father's side of the Manor, the right wing, was made with her utmost care and dedication which made Draco believe that his father had never told her decorated the Manor and only went along with what he had grown up. His side of the Manor was sober, except only for the ballroom on the first floor. The garden had included fountains and tea tables and some exquisite magical animals and fairies. 

The place was ready and it didn't resemble at all the once headquarters of the Dark Lord nor the Manor that a lot of people have been tortured. Perhaps that would help to finally get rid of his terrible nightmares where a certain Gryffindor could be heard screaming her lungs out.

_ Shite _ .

Draco opened his eyes and put his watch from his pocket. Almost it. He pocketed the watch and stared at the people walking in the street looking far busier than it should from the late hour.

Maybe this was the stars looking out for him and it was their telling that his idea was shitty and should be stopped.  _ Oh boy _ , what a terrible mistake, and if he went home fast enough no one would know.

He was staring at the black sky when the door clicked open and Draco gasped. 

He was right, that was fucking stupid. He should've gone. Shite.

“Malfoy?”

Caught red-handed, Draco schooled his features before shifting his glance to the girl.

“Granger.” 

The was a long silence, neither of them knew what to say.

“What-”

“May we have some coffee?” he cut her off, not knowing how to answer her question or rather not prepared to do so.

Hermione studied him for quite some time, before looking to the sky and nodding.

“Okay” she spoke softly.

Draco separated himself from the brick wall and looked lost from one side to the other, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

“Do you know somewhere-”

She huffed, turned on her heels and starting making her way to Merlin's know where, only briefly looking over her shoulder to see if he was coming along or not. Part of him was wary of following her and the other thought better not to bother the woman any more. So Draco briskly followed the Gryffindor into Muggle London without saying another word.

Granger only spoke again when they were sat inside a cozy tea house after minutes of silent walk.

Oddly enough, he didn't feel any more uncomfortable than usual.

“I apologise for this impromptu meeting” he mumbled after their drinks arrived. 

Her tense shoulders relaxed after his words, which caused great confusion on the blonde who remained quiet.

“It's okay.”

“I just wanted to know if you're better” he confessed after a few more minutes of silence, his eyes glued to his cup of tea before he added “Of the episodes.”

“Oh” she sounded surprised and he glanced at her, “yeah, Ms. Bramley's helps a little. It's just…”

“Hard?” he supplied.

“Yes, no one's  _ suffered _ what I did… it seems as it's difficult for them to understand.”

She whispered, looking out the window and Draco searched for words. 

“I  _ am _ sorry.” It seemed to shock her enough to look at him in the eye for the second time that evening. “For calling you all those names and which you now have to read it everyday” he indicated her forearm with his head and saw her hand tremble before grabbing the exact spot Draco mentioned. “I've been an arse to you since forever and I want to apologise for all the times I made you cry.”

His hand shook holding the cup and he placed on the table, swallowing the his fast beating heart down to his rightful place at his ribcage. 

Hermione seemed speechless so he went on, “I am trying to understand all of that damned war and it's hard, but I know how evil I have been with you over our school years. And after seeing you look so broken that day in the Ministry has swallowed me whole in guilty, for I'll be forever guilty of bullying you and in torturing you.”

He finally left a breath come and go, before looking at her and shocked to see she was crying silently.

After a few more minutes in silence and he ordering a second round of tea for both of them, Hermione seemed like she finally gathered her witty again.

“Thank you, Draco. I don't think you need any sort of forgiveness for our youth, however if is that what you sought, you may have it. It's good to see that you've grown up and are making your own choices” she sent him a ghost of smile “I don't hold you accountable for what happened at your house though, therefore there's no forgiveness to give. I may forgive but I don't forget, Draco. As should you.”

“I don't.”

“That's good.”

“It is.” He sipped his tea, “and how are you liking the dreadful Ministry?” 

She made a face.

“You probably know and only want to get a rise of me.”

“I do not, Granger.” He tried to sound solemn.

“I hate it” her eyes sparkled with find and passion. “Every law or regulation or anything I try to do is blocked! It's like I'm stuck and everything that I hoped to change is a far away dream.”

“You should quit your job.”

“Pardon me?” her eyes flashed with anger, “I will have you know that I  _ won't _ give up because the Ministry is a old have only dying men in the good positions!!”

He rolled his eyes and waited for her outburst to pass.

“You are doing it wrong, Granger.” He lift his hand to stop her from interrupting him. “I mean you're trying to work with the Ministry as you aren't a part of the Ministry itself. Because that's the treatment almost every department have. You have to be the Ministry, Granger, and changed it from  _ inside out _ . However you cannot do that in your silly department because no one takes it seriously. You have to go the Law Enforcement and go to the higher ranks to be able to change all departments rules. It's power from inside that it will make your changes happen. There's a bunch of old, prejudiced wizard on the key positions and it doesn't matter that we are finally rid of the Dark Lord. They are there for as long as ever. You cannot win the Wizengamot, but can reshape the whole Ministry before they know what had hit them.”

She looked dumbfounded.

“Why are you telling  _ me _ this?”

“Because my family breath politics and drinks money, so it comes easy to me this things and the shady ways within the Ministry. And also because I know how infuriating you are and that you will do better than let another Dark Lord rise once again. Besides, perhaps the guilty will finally leave me so I can live in peace.”

She wait a few minutes before speaking “You look better than at the war or at Hogwarts. Lighter.”

“It's harder than it looks” he offered and she smiled at him.

“Yes, it is.”

 

~~~~~~

 

**January, 2002** .

 

The first of January find Draco sat on the rocky shore of his Wale's cottage in his pajamas and his thick cloak, holding a big cup of tea and staring off at the sea. The freezing wind didn't bother him since he’d cast warmth charm and his Hawthorn wand sat resting besides him at the shore.

The night before he celebrated the changing of the year with Astoria and some friends at Theo's house. It had been quiet and cozy and he’d surprisingly enjoyed himself and his girlfriend seemed to have felt the same. She had laughed at his shaggy and shoulder length hair, asked why couldn't he tie it already if he wanted it to grow. Draco couldn't find in himself to answer that he wouldn't tie it because he didn't want to resemble his father any more that he already did with the platinum hair and pointed face. So Draco only shrugged and said he like it better untied thus why he had cut it in a way not to get in his eyesight way.

He had met her parents formally as her boyfriend the week before Christmas and never he felt more uncomfortable for he knew they were measuring him up the moment he stepped into their home. One would have thought he would be used to be judged after three years since his trial and conviction, however that was not the case. It filled him with fury that people still thought they had any right to judging  _ him _ , the Head of one of the oldest families of Great Britain, although he'd calmed down after thinking that no parent would like to see their daughter date a convicted.

Or a Death Eater, for that matter.

Her father happened to be one of the few of the Sacred Twenty Eight that hadn’t joined the Death Eaters - and not for lacking the pureblood belief - claiming that his high position on the Wizengamot was much visible and would demise the secrecy of the group had he taken the Mark, compromising a valuable position to the Dark Lord within the Ministry in the process. His argument had been astute enough to spare him of torture or death for going against his master ideas and it have proven to be the wisest move for his family as well since he had conserved his position after the war and looked clean enough.

He’d clapped Draco’s back when he and Astoria were leaving for the evening. That small gesture indicated to Draco that he was accepted. He mused he was still obnoxiously wealthy and well connect outside of Great Britain for being outright rejected. He had become Head, had been released from his sentence and was still one of the Sacred Twenty Eight that had not perished on the War.

The Black’s had vanished after Bellatrix’s death, Mother was the only heir of the fortune and oddly enough, the Head title of the Noble and Most Ancient House of  Black, with Sirius being disowned from the family with his Aunt Andromeda. His mother had expressed to him, at Christmas morning, that she wished to reconnect with her estranged sister, the last member of her family. Draco suggested that she should write his Aunt Andromeda a letter and if her answer was positive, they would set a place to meet. Narcissa confessed then that she had already written it but could not send for fear of rejection.

Draco couldn’t stand his mother looking so dejected and sad over possibilities that didn’t have yet come to life. With a long and suffering sigh, he extended his hand to his mother and asked for the letter, he would deliver it personally he’d stated. Mother ought to reinstate Aunt Andromeda on the Family Tapestry first, he’d said after a moment, therefore if she did reject Narcissa’s offer she could at least return to her rightful place at the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, once again heir and her grandson would be the Head when of age.

“Or do you still think she ought to remain disowned because she married a Muggle-born?” Draco had asked, furrowing his brows in deep thought.

“No, I don’t think so. If this terrible war taught me anything, is that the only thing that matters is your family. I’d have died if you couldn’t make it alive” she quietly confessed.

So he now had a Aunt to track down.

He’d written to Minister Shacklebolt that he had thought of a great place to host the museum, his Aunt Bellatrix’s Manor since she and her husband were the most loyal servants of the Dark Lord until the very end. He thought it would be spacious enough so they could trace the pureblood ideology back to the Statute of Secrecy in the 1600s and the manufacture of the Sacred Twenty Eight and its fallacy, naming all of the Death Eaters and trace Tom Riddle’s timeline to understand every aspect of the war. Covering the lack of action out of fear of the Ministry and the publications of Daily Prophet calling Dumbledore and Potter insane. But if the Minister were to approve his choice of location, a group of Aurors and curse-breakers ought to go to the Lestrange Manor because he was sure it would have nasty spells, Dark magic and wards protecting the place. 

Draco was still awaiting an answer.

He stood up, grabbing his wand and now empty cup and made his way home. Once inside the cottage, he made more tea and grabbed another cup, taking everything upstairs to his room. Astoria was still asleep in his bed and Draco chuckled at the sight of her locks covering her face. Setting the tray at one of the tables, he got into the bed and laid behind her.

“Where were you?” she mumbled.

“Making tea for us” he replied and she hummed, going back to sleep.

He tried to go as well, but the thoughts of what he was supposed to do this year kept him awake until Astoria finally stirred from sleep.

 

*

 

_ Minister Shacklebolt, _

_ Thank you for agreeing to such idea, I look forward to work with your team researching everything we can get our hand on. _

_ Regretfully, I write you this letter not to discuss such thing but to ask of you if a trip to Azkaban can be arranged for myself. I think it’s long overdue. If it’s possible, I would prefer not going to the Ministry since the papers would be delighted to caught a glimpse of me going to the floor connecting to Azkaban. _

_ However, I’ll take what I can get. _

_ Forever grateful, _

_ Draco. _

 

*

  
  


“Granger” he called from his spot on the brick wall and the girl stopped on her tracks, turning to face him.

“Ambushing me again, Malfoy?”

“Please, as if. I need to ask you something.” he stood up in front of her and for his surprise, she only nodded and turned.

They made their way to that little café from the last time and Draco didn’t feel as out of place, walking with her into Muggle London. After they asked for their tea, she unwrapped her scarf and let it dangle from her chair.

“Don’t you have something to do on a Friday night better than wait for me in the cold and have awkward conversations?” she lifted one eyebrow and he rolled his eyes.

“My life is filled with awkward conversations.” that confession seemed to surprise her and he enjoyed rendering the Gryffindor speechless. “And Astoria doesn’t understand my need to come to a Muggle head healer every week, but she accepts it.”

“It’s hard to find who understands it” she nodded and Draco had to restrain himself to ask if that’s why she and the Weasel had broken up a year ago, since it was all over the papers. “What do you need me for?”  her question sobered him up.

“I was wondering if you could tell me where Andromeda Tonks lives.”

She merely stared at him in silence, watching his face.

“What?” she huffed indignantly at him.

“I hope you have a good reason to come to me asking for Dromeda and Ted address. Harry and I care for both of them deeply, so you better start talking” her eyes flashed threatening.

“I do not mean any harm” he stated and she only crossed her arms, he rolled his eyes as the waitress put their orders in the table and left. “Mother wants to reconnect with her sister since their whole family is dead and Mother has come to realise that family is the only thing that is important to her now. She still has a sister alive and she doesn’t care if their mother’d disowned her. She can’t bear the thought of being rejected by Andromeda so I offered myself to pop there, talk to my estranged Aunt and see that she reads Mother letter. I told you that I mean no harm.”

Hermione untangled her limbs and nodded, taking a sip of her tea.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just that… at the war she lost her husband and her daughter, she’d been devastated and Ted is the only thing that keeps her going.”

“I understand.” the silence stretched for a while, then “Mother is the last Black and she is going to re-instate Andromeda so she and the boy will be taken care of, at least financially wise. And he will be the Head of the Black House when he comes of age, as I am already Head of the Malfoy House.”

She looked at him dumbfounded for a couple of minutes.

“Harry is Ted’s godfather and I treat him as if he is my godson as well.” she told him, seemingly deep in thought. “He’s almost four and has already lost so much. We and the Weasleys try to make him feel like he belongs. But it would be so, so good for him to know he has yet a family of flesh and blood other than his granny.” Hermione smiled tearfully and Draco did not know what to do, he could only nod and swallowed the slump that had suddenly formed at his throat that felt suspiciously like the weight this girl’s faith in both he and his mother’s capabilities to be good.

Could they be good?

“Even if she rejects us, she and the boy will never have to worry about money.” it was all that Draco could get out.

“Oh, Dromeda may take her time, but eventually she will accept both of you.” the Gryffindor tried to reassure him.

“Please, Granger, it was my Mother’s family that had killed her daughter and her in-law. Surely you must know it was Bellatrix.” he regretted saying his Aunt name as soon as it came out. He could see the girl in front of him pale and grip the table, clenching her eyes shut. “Oh, shite. I am sorry, Granger!” 

She didn’t answer him and he hastily grabbed her hands holding the table. After a few minutes of asking her to breath in, hold and out, she opened her eyes, pain written across them. He could only whispered a softly “I am so sorry, Granger.” over and over.

She shakily nodded and tried to tell him it was okay, but Draco wasn’t having any of it. He paid for their teas, asked for a bottle of water and took her out of the café. Grabbing her by the ewbol he walked with her to an deserted alley asked her where she lived. He proceeded to side-along apparate with her to it and stood at her front door, worry written in his face.

“You better?”

“I will be.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“You didn’t know it’d trigger me.”

“Still-”

She hushed him, said his Aunt’s address and entered her home. He stood there for a second longer before disapparating to his own house, feeling drained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sacred Twenty Eight is supposedely the last 28 purebloods families remaining in Great Britain. Malfoy, Greengrass, Black, Potter (before James marrying Lily), Weasley, Nott, Parkinson are some of the these families. JK says it was a Nott that wrote the book. You can all see it at Pottermore.  
> Also, Astoria is important to Draco, but she is not the main pair in this story.


	6. Pity Party

**o5**

 

_The ego is such a huge thing_

_(sometimes we forgot about others things)_

 

**Last week of January, 2002.**

 

Draco could count the times in his life that he felt uncomfortable and out of place. Sure, since the War he wasn't welcomed anywhere other than his home and his new office. However, sitting stiffly at an old armchair in front of his estranged Aunt would top his most awkward and uncomfortable experience yet. He could feel the oddness in the air, smell it like something had gone rotten. The tense in his Aunt's shoulders and the steel of her eyes spoke more than a million words ever could. She clearly didn't know what to do with him there, at her home. To be honest, he wasn't far behind - his jaw was set, eyes glancing around the room and he sat uptightly and at loss.

Sometimes Mother would put him through such awkward things.

She was lucky she was so dear to him.

He cleared his throat, trying to come up with something to kill this horribly awkward moment.

“I apologise for intruding.”

Andromeda Tonks only nodded, seemly as put out by this whole encounter as he was. “I came because of Mother.” He tried again and was frustrated to see how much of a Black his Aunt truly was as she merely arched one eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “She wished to apologise for turning her back along with your family when you decided to marry.”

“I see” she nodded, crossing her ankles and supporting her chin in one of her hands.

 _Damn her_ , his Aunt seemed to enjoy making him uncomfortable.

“She wrote you, this letter” he pocket the parchment out off his robes “and was afraid you wouldn't even read. Therefore, here I am. If you may, I’ll be out of your hair in an instant.”

“This is the first time one of my sister tries to contact me since I was disowned. Funny, isn't it? One of them sends me a letter trying to reconnect after the other happily kills my daughter and my grandson’s father” her voice was airy like she was discussing the weather whereas her words were stone-hard and cut him deeply.

He cringed, at loss of how should he proceed after such words.

“I… I am sorry for your loss, Mrs Tonks.” He said hoarsely, trying to swallow the lump at his throat. “I cannot imagine how it must be… To lose a child and a husband, having to raise your parentless grandson” there was a pause in which Draco searched for words to placate the cold fury behind this woman's eyes that were so alike his Mother's. “I don't know what to say… only assure you that Mother does not wish any harm to your family. In fact, she re-instated you on the Back tapestry and by that, your descendants, most importantly little Edward. Even if you don't want to have Mother back at your life, you and Edward are both taken care of financially. It's the least we can do after what our family has put you through.”

She stared at him for minutes in silence. “What makes you think that Ted and I want your money?” She spatted and Draco felt as if he had been slapped on the face.

“I don't… that is not what this is-”

“What _is_ that, then?”

That shut Draco up and good. Honestly, he wasn’t prepared for this whole… mess. Sure, they’d disowned his Aunt, however he actually thought she would like to know she was a legitimately Black once again and that she and her grandson would be forever taken care of. He never thought she’d harbour resentment over their family or talking nonchalantly about the shite their family had made over the past thirty years. Sure, it was more of a burden than anything to belong to the Blacks or the Malfoys. Both names carried weight of wealthy and nobility, Dark Arts’ lovers and as of late, the mass murderers. He set his jaw and his nostrils flared while he mused over her off-putting question.

“It’s only righting a wrong. However long it has been, you didn’t deserved that, neither your husband deserved the hatred words he’d to hear. I heard your daughter was quite the Auror. And if is any consolation, Bellatrix was in a killing spree since April after her vault’s been broken. She was a mad woman, much like her master.” Draco spoke softly, wanting to convey his most sincere feelings about the matter. “I know money does nothing to help with the grieve, though it does help with mundane and idiotic things of the everyday life. A Black is forever a Black and they were arseholes to put an idea above the family. You don’t have to accept your key to the vaults, however the choice is yours to make.”

Draco stood swiftly and gave his Aunt the letter his Mother had written however long ago. When her fingers grasped the parchment, he made for the door.

“You won’t wait for me to read?” he shook his head.

“I’m sure you are mildly curious to see what Mother must have written to you. Alas if you do not read, do write her a note telling her so. She’s anxious since Christmas about this. Aunt.” He opened the door and went on his way, leaving an intrigued Aunt behind.

He wasn’t sure how many proverbial slaps on the face he could take anymore. However, this was for Mother. His personal matters could wait a few more weeks. He was done with his feelings for a while. Ms. Bramley could shove her ridiculous “tune in with one's emotions” speech she liked to tell him every few other months. His lack of awareness of his so called emotions was what made him survive the hellish of his house and family and the Death Eaters.

 

*

 

“I just don't understand, Draco.” Astoria said, looking at him through her lashes with her big blue eyes. He couldn't say anything, only watch her and it absolutely pissed her off. “Why can't you talk to me?”

“It isn't that, Tori.” He exhaled loudly, “I _can_ talk to you! I just don't know what you want me to say.” Astoria snorted and her angry glances made him open his mouth to defend himself from the onslaught that was sure to come. “Look, I can't go with you to Paris and Venice - believe me, I'd love to, but I can't, Tori. I am trying to prepare myself to visit my Father at Azkaban, okay?”

The silence was thick and stiff. His shoulders were tense, his jaw set. He couldn't look at Astoria saying this. It sounded like failure, confess that he had to try and prepare himself to face his Father after four years of imprisonment. He didn't know how to reconcile the man he become with the angry teen he was and the child who admired his father with all his mighty. He was at loss of how to handle all of his emotions regarding his father. He was truly at loss.

A warm hand cupped his cheek and he blinked, surprised, refocusing on the present. Astoria has crossed the room and was at his personal space, looking at him with so much affection he didn't know how to breath for a moment.

“You hadn't told me you wanted to visit him, darling” she spoke softly, caressing his cheek tenderly. “If I had known I would've helped you. When you want to go?”

“I am… I am not sure,” he swallowed with difficulty. “I talked with Shackelbolt. He told me he had arranged everything, I only have to send him word. However, I can't find myself to go.” He whispered, embracing the slender girl at his arms. He pressed her fully against him, resting his chin atop of her head, inhaling her smell to try and ease his errant heart and mind. “Do you think I am a coward and weak?”

“Oh, Draco, of course not” she murmured against his throat, caressing his hair at the back of his neck. “You are confused as how to feel regarding your father, and rightly so. I can only imagine what you went through at the War and I honestly don't know if I'd fare much better if I was in your shoes. It's perfectly okay to feel conflict towards him.” She kissed him there at his neck and Draco shut his eyes, tightening his grip at her.

“I should be able to do it. See him. Talk to him. He's my Father, regardless of anything that happened. I am twenty one years old, the Head of my family and yet I faltered at the thought of going there.”

“You should've told your mother, she wouldn't go to America if she knew you were planning to go there and of your turmoil.”

“It's best that she doesn't know, Tori. I would be ashamed if she knew of how I feel towards father. He's my father and her husband. I shouldn't feel like this.”

Astoria detangled herself from him and hold his face with both of her hands, making him look at her. “I can't pretend to understand fully what are your feelings, Draco. Not in this matter. However, no one will and cannot invalidate how you feel. You went through a lot - a lot of shit, yeah? No one can't tell you how to feel. It's a fucked up situation, but it is what it is. You have to accept this to understand that everything of how you feel is perfectly fine. Don't even blink of how others think about it, none of them lived your life. I know this, you know this and your mother knows this. Even your father. No one blames you. Do you hear me?” She told him fiercely and Draco was absolutely floored of how to feel at her words and the sincerity behind them. “So please, Draco, stop doing it.”

He find himself wondering how on earth he managed to get and secure the attention and affection of such caring and understanding woman. He could only kiss her to try and demonstrate his gratitude and own affection, trying to push off his brain the thoughts of how long would she want to stay putting up with his shit like that.

 

*

 

Draco gave in and took Astoria to an vacation of ten days to Venice and Paris on the Valentine's day. He thought that she deserved as much after their heartfelt moment days before and he'd already made up his mind that he wouldn't, couldn't go talk to his Father for the next couple of days since he felt sick to the point of throwing up if he thought about it much.

So he went on a sabbatical trip and he almost couldn't believe how great it was to feel like a human being once more. He easily forgot how incredible it was to just be and don't have responsibilities to think about - a feat he hasn't been able to do it since his trip to Sweden three years ago. As much as he loved to be around Mother and some close friends, it took an enormous toll for him to have to be a proper man, a proper Head of family, to care for his Mother and visit his Father and there was no escape of his memories of the War.

“I wish we didn't have to go back” he confessed to Astoria one late, late night after they had sex. His grip on her waist tightening and he buried his face on her tousled hair. She only hummed in agreement, tired and drifting off to sleep.

Alas, they've returned to Britain and Draco could only thank the years of growing up as a Malfoy to schooled his features and do not give in to sorrowness that filled his chest once he returned.

“Maybe there's something that's wrong with me” he voiced a thought that has plagued his mind since his confession to Astoria a week earlier. “A curse, perhaps? It just can't be that I… I hate it being in this country again. There's something wrong, I know it. Why do I feel this way?” He was fairly aware that his voice had the angst that would make his teenage self jealous.

He felt like _drowning_ all over again. As if he could never have proper air in his lungs and his life was leaving him slowly and painfully.

“When you were faced with the challenge to visit your father, all of your fears, sorrows and angst that you feel because of the War and the role you played in it resurfaced. Next Second of May will mark four years that this hell has come to an end and yet, you cannot deal and rid yourself from your demons. Maybe it's time for you to actually think about it and come to terms about your part in this War if you want to move past it and live a healthy life.” Ms. Bramley voice was flat, devoid of any emotion, but not unkind. This woman knew how to get through his thick head. “I am not saying that it will be easy, however you have a nice support group that you can rely on: you have your Mother, whom you have become increasingly close since the War; Astoria who clearly is in love with you; Theo, Blaise and even Pansy are the ones you've let in these past few years. You're not alone. You can make it.” She assured him.

“Okay.” He agreed and his therapist absolutely beamed at him for his willingness.

Damn that woman for getting into his head.

Draco tried to actually forget every single word his therapist had said as soon as he got out of her office. He was already making plans to go straight to his office and buried himself under the papers of his research about that museum. Even if it was a Friday night, he could not let his horrible thoughts to torment him with so little time to prepare. But since Ms. Bramley's advice he couldn't get the flashes on the War out of his head.

However, as soon as he caught sight of the bushy chocolate hair, he stopped in his tracks and faced his childhood nemesis turned into young adult mutual sympathetic. Bollocks, his teenage self you actually call him out on his cowardice and stupidity. He was a very idiotic teenager, after all.

So he made his mind up and stayed put the next sixty minutes waiting for that girl to come out of his therapist office so they could both drown in their stupid and sorrowful arses together in that pitiful night. When she came, neither said a word and they made their way to the busy streets of Muggle London. When Hermione made to go to the coffee shop they usually went, he grasped her arm and shook his head, pointing to the other side of the street where it seemed to host a local tavern. She only arched an eyebrow in response and followed him into the place.

His shoulders sagged in relief once he was sat properly in one of the bar stools with Hermione Granger at his side and after scrutinizing that the tavern did look much like the magical ones back at his world. She chuckled beside him and he turned sharply to glare at her.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes. You looked quite fearful while inspecting the pub” she told him looking amused by his actions and he scowled. “Oi, don’t look at me like that, you are the one who wanted to come here.”

“Fine.” he crossed his arms and she barked a laugh, which apparently earned them the attention of the bartender. She asked for something and looked at him, waiting for his order but he only shrugged his shoulders letting her know she could order for both of them since he didn’t know any muggle drink to ask. When the bearded man put two tall glasses in front of them with a dark liquid in it, Hermione only smiled at him and drank hers. “What the fuck, Granger!” he almost spit his drink when he gulped the horrible liquid. She roared in laugh. “This shit is disgusting.”

“That’s the point of it, Malfoy. It’s a pint of beer and cider.”

“Argh, remember me to never drink this awful thing again.”

“Go on, drink it all and I will pay for you the next one.I just wanted to show you a local drink. Also the name is snakebite” she laughed more and he scowled at her.

He drank it in large gulps to try and make it quickly. Granger soon finished hers and signaled the bartender to ask for more drinks, Draco was actually chanting in his head for her to ask anything but the damn snakebite again.

“I hope you know you are not funny, Granger.”

“Oh, stop being such a baby, Malfoy. We are not in Hogwarts anymore.”

He took his new translucid glass and clinked it with hers. “Cheers for that, sweetheart” he said sardonically and drank a mouthful. “This is good”.

“Why are you so cranky? You’ve been pleasant the last couple of times.”

“Nop, we may talk about this only after you get me plastered. I can’t do it anymore while sober. It drives me crazy.”

“Please, don’t say it’s girl problem.” the witch deadpanned and he almost choked on his drink and cough profusely.

“Don’t be daft.” he snapped at her and she grinned. “Why are you so happy anyway?”

“I quit my job.” she told him gleeful and his jaw dropped. “I did it a month ago and I can honestly say it’s the best thing that ever happened to me since I graduated at Hogwarts.”

“Never pegged you as the kind of person who gets happy after dropping something.” he commented truthfully after collecting himself and drinking more of the mysterious drink.

“Neither did I. However trying to live like the War has never happened was driving me mad and after your advice that I was in the wrong department, I realised that maybe that was my opportunity to give myself sometime to sort everything out before try and move on.”

She finished her drink while they sat in silence and he mulled over her words.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Sorting yourself out?”

“Yep” she along the _p_ moving her hands so the bartender knew she wanted another one of these. “It give me headache and heartache, but I’m doing it. And now I don’t have a job to worry anymore, do I? Nor friends.” she added darkly and it was Draco’s turn to arch his eyebrows while finishing his drink.

“Please, Granger, it does not take a genius to know the Golden Trio is never gonna to separate. You guys fought a War side by side; this shit gets you.”

“Yep, it does” she cheered raising up her new full glass and Draco mimicked her actions. “However, I am bloody tired of the Magical World, Malfoy. I quit my job and I still live with my parents and I live a Muggle boring life and it’s amazing because no one is trying to make me feel inferior and that I have to prove myself constantly since I was eleven! And I don’t have to fight for my right to live and being a magical being because everybody fucking accepts me in the Muggle World where I am intelligent and plain! I love it.I think I am done with the wizardry.” Hermione ranted furious and Draco could barely hold his eyes so they would not fall off its socks.

He couldn’t believe his ears as her furious and sad words registered in his brain. I mean, how could the greatest witch that has graced the Magical World in at least fifty years say such harsh and truthful thing? Yes, he was acutely aware that he was one of the _bastards_ that made her feel inferior and that she have to prove herself worthy of her magical powers and her place in that bloody world. Nevertheless, he had _watched_ her for a decade and he was bregungdly amazed by her powers, her quick thinking, her witty and how she managed to always, _always_ saved the bloody school and the two idiots that followed her like puppies. Because everybody knew Harry Saint Potter would never lived to tell a single story if not for his bushy haired friend who happened to be one of the greatest witches alive and that was unfortunately muggle-born and had almost perished in that blasted War.

“What’s the point, then” Draco asked with his voice low and cold while he stared at his glass, “to have proved yourself over the years and fought a bloody War if you are going to do what people like me and the Dark Lord have wanted all along, the _likes of you_ out of the Magical World?”

He saw her flinch at his poisoned words and tried to not feel as guilty. He had to strain his ears to hear her mumbled words, “I am tired of fighting, that’s all.” That’s how he knew the War must have broken her as much as have broken him. The Hermione Granger of his youth would never confess this or admit defeat, not if she knew she was right all along. This woman sat beside him was tired, tired of having to fight for a place that was rightfully hers in that damned and damaged world; tired of having to prove herself; tired of expectations; tired of titles whereas she only wanted to be herself without any kind of pressure. She was never going to have her teenage years again for hers was stolen by a War that was not hers in the first place, therefore she did not know how to live in their world if not fighting and if not being the best because anyone with his kind of mindset would have use it against her to prove her displacement. She did not know how to be herself in their world, because she never could and even now she was a War heroine that had the spotlight at her every move.

This woman beside him was sad and bitter and didn’t want to anything to do in their world. She just wanted to walk away and be herself, which she never could at the Magical World. He could relate with the last bit, but it didn’t feel right to compare himself with her, not after he was one of the responsibles to torment her youth and after his family torture her in the middle of their drawing room - where she could have honestly died if not by one of the bloody elves coming to her rescue. What could he say?

“I am sorry, Granger.” he whispered and knew she heard him because her eyes grew big and shocked. “I was a jerk at school and always made you feel unwelcomed. I am part to blame at this. That said, I think you should think more throughout about it, maybe sometime away will make you feel okay again. I know this because I hate it there nowadays - I want to go and never come back.”

“Woah, going to a muggle therapist is doing you good, Malfoy,” Granger replied after a few dry chuckles and gulping down a mouthful of the translucid drink. His bitter smiled appeared briefly on his face while he nodded. “That’s why you are here getting plastered with your childhood mudblood nemesis on a Friday night?”

“ _Don’t_ ” he snapped and she peered at him curiously. “Don’t say that word again.” Draco could see that her insufferable curiosity was getting to her, however she surprisingly didn’t pressed the matter. “And no. I am twenty one years old, the Head of Malfoy Family but it seems I cannot go to face and talk to my father in that bloody prison. Ms. Bramley says I have to stop ignoring the War and how it affects me… but I just...”

The silence stretched for long minutes in which both of them would only drink and ask something to eat.

“She seems to have a point, you know? We can’t always run away from our problems. And yeah, I know I’m being a hypocrite.”

“It’s easier for you, Granger-” he began only for being rudely interrupted.

“Is it though?”

“I feel like Crabble’s death is on me… and I am angry with myself for being angry with Father.”

“One of the Weasley’s twins have died, don’t you think me and Harry feel the same way about it? Tonks, Lupin, Sirius… it takes a toll on all of us.”

“You were right, though. You always knew that and then you won. I was wrong, I fought to the wrong side and then discovered that I didn’t know anything at all and we lost - not that I am complaining we lost, but still… it’s feels horrible. I didn’t deserve to be here, free and everything. It’s just so wrong.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Draco Malfoy. You should be grateful we managed to let you walk free. You should be grateful and grab this opportunity to be a better man. Not one that should’ve been locked away but one that it won’t make anyone have doubts about you being free. Feeling sorry for yourself is not gonna change the past nor the future.” she sounded angry with him, her eyes cold and relentless. He felt the air leaves his body with the force of her words knocking it out. It took him a few minutes to collect himself and he dropped some Muggle money on the bar.

“Funny you mention that while whining like a pitiful excuse for a witch about how you’re so unfortunate for been discriminated and prejudiced all of your life.”

His words were harsh and his steps fat but even so he heard her calling him a bastard. Well, she was one as well. Bitch.

 


	7. Beyond the Dichotomy

**o6**

 

_Usually, life is harsh and eats you_

_(Sometimes, you’re lucky and it spits you out)_

 

**April, 2002.**

 

After a couple of months sulking and telling off his own Mother, he got yelled at from Astoria herself.

“You listen to me and you better to listen to very carefully, Draco Malfoy!” Tori was a couple of meters in front of him, her arms crossed, her eyes set and burning with fury, her lips pressed together. She looked positively imposing and terrifying, yet he couldn't help himself to stare at her in awe. “I adore you and I try very hard to understand and not to patronise how you feel about this whole ordeal. However you better _get your shit together_ or soon you will find yourself girlfriendless, friendless and even parentless because Narcissa and myself will not deal with you while you are full of shit. So man up, you hear me?”.

And with those cold and truthful words, she turned on her heels and stalked out the door, letting the mahogany wood close with a loud bang after her leaving. Draco stood at his office house gaping at her parting like a fish out of water and seemingly lost.

His girlfriend was right, as it was usually the case. He was being a prat and with no reason at all since both his mother a d Astoria hadn't done anything to provoke such a poor treatment towards them. And he had noticed Theo has been avoiding him like the plague on the office, and even Pansy had called him a jerk on their group’s last get together. Okay, so maybe he was being an enormous prick and no one needed to suffer his petty and poorly concealed behavior. Narcissa had only lifted one of her impeccable eyebrows when he spat at her earlier, like she’d expected better but wasn’t surprised that much, as if he was a puppy poorly trained. Perhaps her reaction was what sent him on a spiral of childness and pettiness, angry that his own Mother always expected him to go back to his very moody teenage years.

Regardless, it was nobody’s fault but his own that he couldn’t deal with Crabble dying and being assaulted on his nightmares of his screams while he was being engulfed by the fire on the Room of Hidden Things. Damn that girl for bringing so many horrid emotions and memories back. It had been so many months without a single nightmare about one of his oldest friends and after that disastrous night at the Muggle pub he just couldn’t stop them from coming back. However, when he put aside his feelings of guilt and shame from his friend’s death, he supposed he hadn’t seen as many dear friends dying as the bushy haired girl probably had during the War. Fuck, she herself was the wanted number two, just shy behind of Potter, and because her blood was from two non magical people even if it was full of magic as his own.

Draco angrily grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote forcefully _“I apologise for my harsh and unfair words that night. Since our last encounter I’ve being unable to think of little else. My burden is not the largest nor havyer of the world, I am sure. I hope you’re less troubled than that night, you didn’t seem as sound as you usually are. Sincerely, D.”_

An apology for person, right? Astoria was going to bite him in the arse, he was sure.

 

~~~~~

 

 **May, 2nd., 2002**.

 

“Father.” his voice echoed on the bare white room he found himself into to meet with his father.

The man in question was being led into the room by a guard - a wizard, thank Salazar, for Draco couldn't stand the Dementors, likely because he could not produce the light magic that was the _Patronous_. His Father's hair was impossibly long and wild as if not groomed properly in a long time. Lucius was tall however his posture was slightly hunched, as if he didn’t stood up that much - likely because he was condemned to a tiny cell in Azkaban. His eyes though, his eyes were sullen and clouded and sad, _oh so very sad_. It was such a sight that Draco found himself gasping in shock for he’d never seen his Father look so in contrast with his old self; the one who roamed without a care in the Ministry of Magic, meeting everyone who was in a good position and scanning for the next ploy in which the Malfoy family could benefit from. Now his father look like a common man, in plain and grey clothes, devoid of life and with such a sadness exuding from his body that Draco could not help himself and compare him with a man who had lost _everything_.

“Draco, my son, _at last_ you came for me” he rasped, his voice weak and slightly trembling, probably from lack of use. He sat on the other chair in front of his son and Draco could only stare at the shell of man he once knew. “You seem troubled.”

“I apologise, Father” Draco sputtered, his eyes wide and straightening his posture, though Lucius only waved a hand in dismiss.

 

The silence stretched for a long couple of minutes.

 

“I suppose you have questions for me otherwise I highly doubt you would visit me in a place like this.” When Draco opened his mouth to deny it vehemently, Lucius cut him with finality. “ _I wouldn’t._ ”

Draco forced himself to relax in the presence of his once imposing father. He was the one who used the ring of the family now, the Head, he was of age and he was the one who could walk at his free will. He would not be intimidated by his father, not like this, not after so much they all went through.

“I see you’re as perceptive as ever, Father. However, I’ve delayed our encounter this much _because_ I’ve been troubled and puzzled by your actions, our family’s belief and the outcome of that bloody War.”

“I see you’ve grown a spine, son” Lucius commented, his eyes sparkling ever so slightly while scrutinizing his own son.

“It’s been _four years,_ after all” Draco replied, crossing his arms and staring at his Father as an equal.

“Indeed, it has been. So what is it, you want me to admit to have miscalculated it?”

“ _Miscalculated?_ ” Draco was suddenly furious with his father lack of… emotion or sympathy, of anything really. “You’ve _destroyed_ my life and you tell me is a ‘mis-fucking-calculation’? For Merlin’s pants what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled in rage, standing up abruptly, knocking off his chair and punching the table.

“You always have been a moody kid, throwing tantrums and what not.” he rolled his eyes watching his son with his bored expression still in place even if his eyes carried such sadness and the weight of years living.

“Oh shut up, Father! It’s all _your fault_. Our name is so deep in the mud that even the mudbloods have more say in this damned society than us, so shut the fuck up!”

“Why are you here, then, Draco? Not for me to shut up, I bet.” he drawled and suddenly Draco felt sick to his stomach to sound so much like his father.

“I want to understand” Draco whispered, suddenly spent; he straightened the chair and sat again, dragging his hands through his hair, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “When I was growing up I tried _so hard_ to be like you, Father, to make you proud because you always said you were taking care of the family and that everything you did was for the family’s interest.” he felt like crying, his voice was shaking and he could not bear to look anywhere near his father. “You repaid me by being stupid and outsmarted by a kid, getting yourself in this very prison. Do you know how it feels being fifteen and being marked because the very cause your father fights for is threatening your mother's life and your own? _How could you_?”

“My father has been to Hogwarts and was classmate of the Dark Lord,” Lucius spoke softly and Draco finally looked at the man in front of him. Lucius was looking at the table between them, seemingly recalling memories of his own youth. “The Dark Lord never made them, his classmates, took the Mark and I suppose it is because he didn’t have power enough to start what later we became to understand as the War... Your grandfather was fond of the Dark Lord even though we both knew Riddle was not a Wizardry name, Father had witness his power first hand at Hogwarts. He told me to be careful, to never show my hand until I knew everything and such thing we Malfoys always teach to our kind.

“Father knew he would be as great as Dumbledore or even more and that our family would do well to associate with him. You see, I’ve grown up hearing about this great classmate of my Father and when he first recruited, I was eager to take the Mark for our family - Father was a very prominent member of the Ministry to bare such a thing on his arm. I was not. I was barely older than you’re now, I had years ahead of me to help shape the world like I wanted to and the Dark Lord’s ideas suited me best than the ones of Dumbledore,” he sneered at the name. “I did what I always thought it was the best for our family. Once you’ve took the Mark, there was no coming back. When you were born and He was gone, I have to adjust. It was astonishing that he got back from the dead, your grandparents were already gone, your Mother was repulsed by the violence in the first war and I couldn’t turn our backs to the Dark Lord because we would be hunted down. We just have to keep going, and we did, Draco. That’s what Malfoys do best, _they keep going and stick together_.”

“You bet all of our galleons on the Dark Lord’s bag and you _almost erased the Malfoy lineage_ from the Wizarding World” was all that Draco could say after a couple of minutes mulling his Father’s word. “What kind of Head does that? If family is everything, _how could you_ put the sole heir of the house and mother’s life at stake?” his voice was thick with emotion and a few tears rolled down.

Lucius sad eyes met his equally sad ones and to Draco’s surprise, his father mustered a ghost of smile, a self-depreciative and sardonic one.

“It’s funny, isn’t Draco? _How blind we are to the things that matte_ r until we almost lose it or lose it at all... I am not sure that Father died proud of me and how I took care of the Malfoy name, however today I _know_ for certain that I am so _very_ proud of you and what you’re trying to do. I can’t say it will be easy, our path from now onward; you, me and your Mother have so many things to understand and to overcome. I am sure that you will bring the Malfoy name to the high status of power that once it held.”

“I don’t care for power” Draco spat, furious with his Father narrow-mind.

“Oh, but you do, boy. You’ve grown up to have the world to listen to you and not to be brushed away like a bug. You can’t stand people looking down at you, snobbing you.”

“ _You_ taught me to look down on everyone.” he accused.

“And I did it well.”

“Our name has to carry power, not to intimidate people. Why do you think you are stuck here? You are not in the 70s, Father. Things work differently. The Ministry is creating a society that do not care for you blood status.”

“ _Whereas the form change,_ son, _the matter is the same._ ”

Draco could only shake his head and stand up. “I wish you would reflect more about what you did and the implications of it in my life and Mother’s.” He then spared a last glance to his father slumped on the chair and turned, knocking three times on the door at his side of the room and not looking back.

 

*

 

“You are still angry with your Father.”

Draco turned his head from the lake a few yards behind the Manor to look at his mother coming to a stop a few feet behind him, concern all over her beautiful face. He sighed, looking back at the water in front of him. She sat beside him, on the grass, looking as graceful and poised as ever, which made Draco smile a little.

“It’s just that… he’s the same, Mother. Only with a wild hair and sullen eyes. But the War didn’t change him, as if he haven’t seen the horrors and almost let us both die.” he whispered to his Mother, feeling lost.

“Oh, _my sweet boy_.” her voice was laced with emotion and she rose a hand to caress him, however she stopped mid-air not knowing if it would be well received. “Your Father does not know _how_ to be in the wrong. He _won’t_ ever admit it to you of all people because he has never seen his own father being in the wrong.”

“It’s like _he doesn’t even care_ for what he has done.”

“He does, darling. I promise you. We talk a lot through letters, he’s troubled as you and me. You shall not expect him to ever come to talk to you about it though. He thinks as a Father he failed you, being wrong and not seeing it beforehand. It’s being hard for him. He doesn’t know how to act any differently.”

Draco shook his head, “He told me that the shape may change, but the content remains. And he could only talk about the family name in the society and power and I felt _so sick_ , Mother. He just ignore everything else.”

“I am sorry, dearest. Give him time” Narcissa tried to sooth him, drawing circles on his back like she used to do when he was a little kid and was hurting. He let his head fall on her shoulders and they remained there, staring at the peaceful lake.

 

~~~~~~

 

**September, 2002.**

 

“She broke up with me.”

He and the brightest witch of last couple generations were once again at that Muggle pub, drinking what he finally learned as gin and tonic, whatever that meant and this time sitting at a table, or a booth as Hermione had called it.

“I am sorry to hear it” she sounded genuine and Draco felt queasy with her kindness, not used to it by anyone but Astoria.

“ _Hear, hear_ ” he rose his drink to the air in a mock celebration and downed his third cup.

“Don’t go too fast, Malfoy, or you will spill your lunch and I am not looking for that.”

“Such a smart mouth, you are, Granger!”

“Well, I can’t go drinking with a Slytherin unprepared now, can I?”

“Why do you do it?”

“I honestly have asked myself that in the last couple of months.”

“Figures you like talking without feeling you are walking on eggshells,” he drawled signaling a waiter for another round. “Tori left me because of it, did you know? She said that the War was gone and I couldn’t spend my life thinking about it otherwise I would have no future to build since I was not present.”

“I thought she was helping you with your trauma.” Granger said after asking for fish and chips to the same waiter when he brought you both drinks.

“She does not have a problem talking about it but she hated that I could only think about it after I visited my father in Azkaban” as soon as the words were out, Granger choked on her drink and started coughing. The Death Eaters could not capture and kill this witch, but a drink going down on the wrong pipe could.

“It must be horrible, Azkaban that is.”

“Well, is no sunshine and rainbows.”

“Arsehole.”

“Swot.”

“Why you went on a spiral about the War after seeing Lucius?”

He drank a mouthful to gain time in answering

“He was so unapologetic for everything he had done, like I didn’t have to fend for myself and to save mother because he was such an idiot.”

“Your father is not gonna stop and recognize he did shit for over 40 years of his life, Draco. It’s easier to try and understand why he did it and if you can’t, well at least you now do appreciate that you are alive and can do as you please.”

“It doesn’t even make sense the pureblood agenda.” he said after a couple of minutes in silence, munching over the fish and chips and she snorted. “I have like a whole basement with stacks upon stacks of Malfoy’s journals and before the Statute of Secrecy we have wed half-bloods and muggle-borns.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” she seemed shocked enough to look at him instead of devouring her chips.

“Yup, I’ve been reading it in the last couple of years. Actually the beginning of our fortune was because a Malfoy helped some King to keep England under his rule and in exchange he granted our family the land of Malfoy Manor and so on. Apparently we were an influential family on both worlds.”

“Holy shit!”

“You telling me, Granger.” he signaled for another round of drinks to the waiter passing nearby. “When they approve the Statute, against my family wishes if you must know, we lost a lot of potential money and connections. I think some descendent was bitter when they began all this pureblood bullshit.”

“Well, _that_ is interesting.”

“Interesting? I’ve been lied to my whole life, woman.”

“At least you _now_ discovered the truth. There’s been many from your family who must have suffered from this pureblood bullshit and never discovered the truth. Surely your Aunt Andromeda is not the only case of wanting a muggle-born partner.”

Her words stuck at his brain and he could only digest them while drinking.

“I’ve spent the last month buried in the basement reading theses journals, trying to make sense of Father and such. That’s why Tori couldn’t take it anymore.” he felt himself get emotional and a few tears threaten to fall.

He felt a warm hand grab his own on the table and he could only stare at their joined hands and think how life was ironic because here he was, telling the witch he once bullied that the pureblood agenda was bullshit and here she was, comforting him after getting his first heartbreak and not goading that he was fucking wrong when they were kids.

The universe had such a twisted sense of humour.

He grabbed a few bills and dropped at the table, paying for both of them and he stood suddenly, however he was not prepared for the world spin at his feet and he had to grab the table. The witch in front of him only sniggered and, much to his amusement, almost fell when she tried to stand up.

In the end, they both succeeded in standing up and going out the pub, partly because they were leaning in each other to try and not stumble. Draco had one of his arms snaking the witch’s waist and the woman had mimick his action, so they both made it outside on wobbly knees and Draco attempted to detangle himself from the warm body of his old nemesis, only to have the grip tighten. She told him that he was drunk and couldn’t walk on his own, which he granted as the truth after almost falling face-first on the floor. Apparating was out of question and they both knew it.

“You can have the couch.” she told him while signaling a black car to stop by. He must have let his confusion show because she giggled before telling him, “it’s a taxi. Like a Knight Bus but not as dangerous nor as fast. And is only us.” he nodded while they both climbed on the backseat.

He let his head rest on the window and closed his eyes while Granger gave the driver her address. The hum of the engineer and the lull of the ride almost made him both sleep and vomit, which was beyond horrid.

“Miss, mister?” the driver called both of them and Draco finally became aware that the car had stopped and there was a weight on his shoulder. He turned and saw Granger asleep at him, without a care in the world while the driver looked impatient and frustrated with his clients.

He poked the witch awake and she sputtered an awkward apology, fumbling for the money to pay the driver and finally climbing out the taxi with him following. She made for the door of what he supposed was her house when he suddenly remember her talking about it.

“Wait, didn’t you say you live with your parents?”

“Well, I couldn’t let you fall asleep while drunkenly wandering on a Muggle street. They won’t care, now come, you look like you want to throw up and so do I.”

Yeah, well, she didn’t leave room for arguments. He learned that years ago. And he was desperately in need of a toilet.


	8. Warmth

**o7**

_ They were lonely  _

_ (Was it what companionship looked like?) _

 

**September, 2002.**

 

Regret was a funny thing for Draco Malfoy. You see, up until his seventeen years, he hadn’t felt it _at all_ and then, _then_ he was smashed and beat down by this huge and _massive_ feeling of regret for the things he’d done and the choices he’d made, _all_ _the damn time_ and he could _not_ stop feeling this. 

It was madness. 

He felt as if the guilt and regret were already a part of who he was, who he’d become and couldn’t recall a day when they weren’t with him. So when woke up a Saturday morning with his neck burning like a bitch because he’d slept on a tiny couch and a massive headache, the feeling of regret wasn’t new nor strange. At 22 years old and after terrible life choices, hangovers were not a foreign thing to the heir of Malfoy House, however when he finally managed to crack an eye open and his clouded mind began to clear, he understood what made him wake up in the first place: people were  _ talking _ nearby and he had not an iota of idea who they could  _ possible be _ , which sent him on the edge of panic and fear.

“I will wake her up!” a woman hissed.

“Now, Jean, I know how you feel but I don’t think wake her up demanding answers will make her comfortable to talk to us about what is wrong.” a man replied sounding like he was trying very hard to placate his company and Draco took deep breathes, remembering he’d crashed on Hermione Granger’s parents place and that he was not on mortal danger for the time being.

“There’s a strange man sleeping in our couch, Richard! They both smell like homeless rags and have you seen our toilet?”

Or maybe the war heroine’s mother would strangle him. Wouldn’t be the first to want to kill him with their bare hands. On hindsight, it was probably the first one to want to kill him in the literal sense of “bare hands” expression since the woman was a muggle, after all and did not own a wand.

“Darling, our daughter needs our support and help. She fought a  _ war _ ! You’ve witness her screams when she’s asleep. She quit her job, she’s not talking with Harry or the Weasleys and they are all writing to us worried, sweetling. If she’s took to drinking until she's passed out with a stranger in our home, then something's the matter.”

“I know, I… I am worried, love. She won't talk to us! She isn't our girl anymore,” and suddenly, the woman's sobbing.

“Sh, everything’s gonna be okay”.

Draco felt very awkward and invasive, overhearing this intimate conversation about a girl whom he’d known all his life but wasn’t friendly nor kind, and that he would only seek her when he felt so utterly alone and in despair for nobody but her understood how he felt. 

The guilty and the overwhelming feeling of overstepping his boundaries, Draco rose up thinking of something to try and placate this pair of strangers who sound broken for not understanding their daughter’s despair and angst. They seem helpless and hopeless and Draco could do only so much in trying to block his own conscious to compare them to how his Mother must have felt and still feel about him and his stupid decisions, like not go home after his therapist and not send a word.

He straightened up his clothes, vanishing the putrid smell of puke and the crinkles of his clothes with a few movements of his wand. After making sure Granger's mother was not crying anymore and after he tamed his hair a bit, he decided to go where Granger's parents seemed to be, following their low voices beyond the sitting area and the dining room to what seemed to be a bright and rather large kitchen.

The couple did not seem to see him prostrated at the doorway, so Draco did the next most awkward thing to gain their attention and rather soundly cleared his throat. The middle aged couple soon broke their tight embrace and, for his amusement, the man grabbed a pan and rose it up in the air as if waiting for a wrong move of the blonde so he could strike Draco with it in the middle of his face.

“I assure you I mean no harm, Mr and Mrs Granger” Draco said with a serious face even though he want to laugh at the thought of a man trying to defend himself with a frying pan. He put both of his hands in front of him, palms facing the couple who seemed less startled.

“Why am I not surprised you're one of them?” the man replied with a scowl in his face, nodding at the wand on Draco’s right hand and Draco lifted his eyebrows.

“Ah, yes, I’m rather a magical being,” he placed the wand on the counter between the couple and himself. “I apologise for startling you both and crashing uninvited on your couch. Your daughter was very confident that I’d splinch myself if I tried to go home in such a poor state.”

“Yes, that’s our Hermione. And you are?” the woman nodded, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder and the tall man dropped the pan on the countertop.

“Draco Malfoy. We were on the same year at Hogwarts.”

It was uncanny how similar mother and daughter were, the sharp eyes and the bushy hair, although Mrs. Granger’s hair was longer and darker. He did not miss how her petite shoulders tensed at the mention of his name nor the way her father’s jaw tightened. Somehow and someway, these Muggles knew who he was, however long the extent was. He’d to willingly try to not tense in response, not to go on the defensive for this pair of strangers did not mean any harm and they were only trying to stood up for their daughter.

“And what, pray tell, someone as yourself were doing with our girl?” Mr. Granger blue eyes flashed with a silent threat and forced his shoulders to stay relaxed and his voice to remain calm.

“We seek each other when despair comes and we drink without prying details or being judged.”

“She has friends for that.” the older man spat and Draco could do nothing but agree.

“That she does. I am not sure why, as I said we do not pry in each other’s affairs, but it seems like she cannot talk to them about it… We only drink,” Draco tried to reassure the couple and while Mrs. Granger seemed to prepare breakfast, her husband would not let his and Draco’s eye contact drop. “My girlfriend broke up with me earlier this week, I was upset… and lost and angry and Granger is the only one who gets it, somehow.” He tore his gaze to the floor, unable to look at the eyes of stranger and telling so much about him, even if it was to placate their worry and fear. “We are both angry with the Wizarding World, and it isn't a common feeling out there.”

This little confession seemed to be okay with them, Mr. Granger nodded in agreement and told him to sit for breakfast, and not to use that “damn piece of wood” in their presence as much as possible because they were still afraid of magic after some stunt Granger herself seemed to have done. Mrs. Granger made him scrambled eggs and saucers, not sure if he would like French toast, and in a rather Slytherin move, she commented airily that she knew he was the prat who used to taunt and bully their girl. Draco almost choked on the damn eggs and had to take a large gulp of a citric juice so the food would finally go down on the right pipe.

Mr. Granger’s eyes shone with mirth at the scene and Draco could tell where the Gryffindor Princess had gotten her twisted sense of humour.

“We know who you are, boy. What side you fought and what you believed.” The tall man said, suddenly serious even after grabbing a French toast to eat and Draco could only down another sip of his juice. “You look miserable enough, as our Hermione, so I don't think you need to be warned. But just a you know, I was the one who taught Hermione that mean right hook” and he honestly winked at the young wizard.

Draco could not feel more out of place than at that very moment. Here he sat, having breakfast with a pair of Muggles whom were scared of wizardry, who knew who he was and how he fought the opposite side of their beloved daughter, and they would wink and have double meaning conversations in which Draco couldn't tell if they were being serious or joking to save his life. He sat dumbly there, hoping against all odds that Granger would wake up and somehow save him from this bizarre situation.

“How can you both let me stay here as if nothing had happened at all?” He later asked Jean, he learned both of their names after awkwardly asking for them, as she settled on the couch to watch the telly - strange Muggle invention - while Richard took care of the cleaning in the kitchen.

“We are at a delicate situation, young man. You see, as much as Hermione tried to be honest with us about anything that was happening in your world, she would downplay so we wouldn't worry and be scared to sent her there year after year. However, when we gain our memories back and she told us that there was a war, a terrible war where she lost many friends and her innocence, we knew it was bad even if she won't tell us details. I mean, what kind of world thinks it's okay to torture teenage girls because they are different and not 'pure’?! But we have to tread carefully because it's a part of who she is and she won't ever be happy out of your world. So we cannot hate your world even if it's what we want with our very being, because it left scars all of her.”

Draco could only mumble a weak apology, for what exactly he couldn't tell, and went home. 

He was exhausted. Mentally and psychologically so. The Granger household seemed as fucked up as his own, her parents hated his world not because of magic itself but because it treated their daughter badly and poorly, because of who they were as if it was their fault they weren't magical beings but she was. They hated it because it didn't appreciate how great she was and is a magic. It treated her like scum even if she was one of the greatest witch in the last couple of decades.

And the guilty. 

Would. 

Not. 

Stop.

He let his mother know he was at home and went straight to take a bath, wondering if the guilty would eat him alive. Richard and Jean Granger weren't savages, they actually seemed quite intelligent and very sensible, not banning magic even after everything because they knew it was a part of their kid. He honestly didn't know if he could be as sensible if it were happening with his own flesh and blood.

No wonder she looked so miserable. He couldn't understand how she didn't hate all their guts. How could she stand him? Sometimes he couldn't stand himself. 

He went to his office and decided to make those feelings to fuel his work and poured himself on a lot of papers and briefings. The people at the Ministry finally were able to reform the Lestrange state so they could use as a museum. Draco had traced back the pureblood agenda to the Statute of Secrecy, mostly of fear and anger. The other researcher was a middle aged man, short and chubby who didn't exactly seem pleased to work alongside a Malfoy but they would only talk through letters and they were very advanced in their research. Shacklebolt had sent classified documents of the last couple of governments that highly compromised Fudge and his successors.

Draco requested two more people to work on his project and they were due to occupy one of the rooms at his office in Diagon Alley. He had asked to his House elves to move his wall board from his home office to the new room at Diagon Alley so all could see the collage and understand his logic and how they were proceed to work. Honestly, he couldn't give a damn about how long the project would take, but the Minister for Magic wanted it done before next second of May, so the Ministry could celebrate the fifth year of the end of the war with the museum as a memorial to all lost in battle and remembering to never forget or repeat.

He would not spend the rest of the year researching about Dumbledore or others, so he'd request two more pair of hands. The Minister sent four, for Draco's despair. One was a Mexican boy of his age, given or take, and his Egyptian girlfriend, both weirdly in love with the academic life and rather excited to be a part of the team researching the origins of the pureblood agenda and the Wizardry supremacy. Then there was a somewhat old, petite and round woman from Ireland, whom apparently had helped Batilda in her research of Dumbledore and Grindelwald and very cranky, whose glares were a match to his own. And finally a lanky boy, in his late thirties and whose spectacles were always falling of his nose, and he would be responsible to make the museum have a logical outline and so on. He hated working with people, his last few years of reclusion making sure of that, so he was always annoyed by his new colleagues, finding hard to contain his murderous glares and his temper. Blaise and Theo, on the other hand, found it immensely amusing. Draco could only find peace in the weekends, heavens forbid that the foursome showed up like him to work on Saturdays and Sundays. 

He would choke himself if they did, he was sure of it.

Alas, he was buried in scrolls, books and parchment when the witch opened up his door, almost two weeks after the incident, without a care and disregarding the knock. He didn't even had time to take out his reading glasses and he was sure ink was covering his fingers more than what was appropriate.

“I am busy right now, Pablo!”

“Should I sit and wait for your highness to finish it, then” the mocking tone made he look up from his messy desk so quickly that he was sure he had whiplashed his neck.

Instead of the rather excited Mexican boy, Hermione Granger was in front of him looking amused.

“Granger?”

“Malfoy” she sat unceremoniously on the comfy armchair in front of his desk.

He waited for her to continue, insinuating the reason for her unexpected presence in his office in the middle of their Magical World. However, when she only sat there, inspecting the place with her sharp eyes, he resigned himself to the task of asking.

“To what I owe the pleasure?”

“I am not exactly sure, to be honest” she let her gaze fell to her lap and Draco had to stop himself of sighing loudly.

“I never thought I'd witness you saying that,” he observed and took off his glasses. “How did you manage to find me, anyway? I am sure you didn't come by the front door.”

“Obviously, could you imagine the headlines?” She made a face at the thought and he hid a smile.

“Not gonna answer anything, are you?”

“Honestly, your company is not hard to spot on the street and Theo Nott was very helpful as well.”

“Ah, the little bastard.” 

She laughed.

“Is something the matter? We always meet over the Muggle World.”

“The last couple of Fridays you didn't wait up for drinks.”

“Last time I got so under your way that I even puked on your toilet. And I am not sure drinking our problems is very healthy.”

She quickly turned her sharp as razor eyes to his own, analysing him in such an intense way he felt breathless.

“Since when you have such a consciousness?”

“It's hard to tell, really.” He tried to joke to dissuade the tension.

“It doesn't have to do with you being a weird guest that my parents talk to and suddenly are out of my hair?”

Damn her for being the brightest witch of their age.

“They were very concerned about your well being. Apparently you never brought home a strange man stinking and passed out on their couch.”

“Malfoy-”

“Look,” he sighed, crossing his legs and dropping the feather. “They don't know what happened, you won't talk to them, you cut Potter and the Weasels out and they are concerned. You should explain better the war, they can hear you screaming when you have nightmares. They are probably scared.”

“You had no right to tell them-” she stood up abruptly, her hair getting more and more out of control.

“I didn't say shit, Granger. Shut up, will you, and listen to what I am saying. I overheard them talking on the kitchen when I wake up and they were talking about you. When I made myself known, I only told them that we sometimes go drinking together because we feel miserable and angst and we are angry at the Wizard World and that nobody but us seem to understand that sentiment.”

“Oh” her mouth was hanging open and Draco didn't know what to make of them, of their lives anymore. 

“Just talk to them.”

“Well, it's not easy, now is it?” she yelled burning with anger and he massaged his temples.

“I don't suppose it is.”

Silence. It stretched for a long time while both of them mulled over their thoughts.

“What are you doing with all these papers anyway?”

Well, he could always count on that girl to have an undying curiosity. So he explained his project with Shacklebolt and she looked at him strangely, which made him restless.

“Are you… are you looking for redemption?”

“Pardon me? Of course not, I don't believe in redemption, Granger.” He almost scoffed at the notion. “I believe we all have personal growth along our lives. I don't care for redemption. But me and you and everyone we know fought a stupid War and we should never forget to never repeat.”

If she was looking strangely at him before, he was positive now she was giving him the creepies. Thank Salazar she decided to ask for a couple of tea after berating him for not offering one to his guests. He sighed a long and suffering sigh, asked for his elf to serve them - to which the girl fumed, before moving to read the spines of his bookshelves and they started to talk.

  
  



	9. A Milestone

******o8**

 

_You don't need monumental moments to change_

_(the will required to do it is already enormous)_

 

**December, 2002.**

Strangely enough, Granger and him developed an odd _ thing, _ somehow their relationship was cordial and friendly and she became a constant in his life, like Theo, Blaise, Pansy, Ms.Bramley and Mother. She was more often than not at his office, reading a book or another, sitting throughout the night after he learned that she, much like him, slept poorly and spent most of the nights awake and wandering. So one night, after he asked to connect his private fireplace from his office with the one at her parents home, he stumbled upon her reading one of his books from the bookshelves at the far wall and it just… became a thing.

He would do work and she would read. And there was that.

A comfortable silence.

“Have you got in touch with them?”

“ _ Yes  _ , Draco.” She tensed her affirmative, sounding cross that he dared to interrupt her reading and to disturb their comfortable and established silence. “Why do you ask if you already seen the photo at the paper?”

“Maybe I, unlike you, am very  _ well _ raised and know that the polite thing is to ask and not assume” he told her arrogantly, resting his reading glasses on the mahogany table and running a hand through his tousled hair.

“Oh, thank  _ you _ , you  _ kind sir _ ” was her sarcastically response, which made him laugh.

He stood up and crossed the room, taking a seat next to her on his comfy couch. The fireplace was lit up and it was probably three in the morning, the moon was high and bright and it looked that snow was coming soon.

“You look a tad better.”

She look up from her book and smiled, her cheeks colouring from the intense and undivided attention she was receiving from him.

“I am, thank you.” she dog eared the page, marking and closing the book, putting it on the table between them and the fireplace.

He put his feet upon it and crossed his arms, feeling oddly rested and comfortable there, at three in the morning with that strange witch.

“Ms. Bramley is been an tremendous help, thank you. I've sorted a lot in these last couple of months and… I am think of going to a trip now that I feel better.”

“Not running away, are you, Granger?”

“Please,” she rolled her eyes and sat upon her leg, turning to face him “as if. It's odd still, feeling that I don't belong to neither of the worlds, even though I know that I do better than anyone else… I fought for it, I deserve it. But there are horrible memories that I must fight and fears that I must overcome.”

“I don't feel that this world has a place for someone like me anymore.” he confessed after some time mulling her words.

“You are  _ not _ your past, Draco.  _ Neither am I _ . Id doesn't matter how tight we hold onto it, it's already gone. We are moving past it and we should look forward.” she took his hand into hers and, even if it wasn't the first time it happened - since it was happening from some weeks now -, he still tensed at the touch and had to force himself to relax.

“When you come back you're gonna tackle the Magical World so hard, they won't know what hit them.” he tried to lift the tension his body created.

“Already scheming my political career?” She smirked at him and he thought of how much time they must have passed in each other's company that now she would mirror his reactions with perfection.

“I’ve already told you, Granger, Malfoys are never at the center of action, we are all behind the scenes.” she laughed at his remark and he felt something weird going on in his body, as if a warming feeling was filling him whole. “I’ve started to read some of the books you mentioned. Plato is a weird guy, don't you think?”

“You're liking it, don't even try this tone with me.”

“Fine” he sighed, looking at the window. “It's interesting.”

“I can't believe they don't teach that kind of stuff here. Philosophy is like, the foundation of our society.”

“Indeed, they teach more about Muggle thinkers and etc in others schools, such as Ilvermory or the one in Italy and so on. It's a shame how the teaching in Britain is getting backwards.” He remarked, looking through the window.

“Draco?” she called him after a couple of minutes in silence.

“Yes, Hermione?”

“Thanks for supporting me the last couple of months.” She told him quietly, looking intently to the fireplace and he snap his attention back to her.

She look quiet and small, but strong and confident. The fire at her eyes that was such a sight when they were young was back, giving her life and colour. She looked better than she'd been in years and somehow he knew it was time: time for healing, time for talking and time for forgetting it. She had it and she looked better. As if she was a young woman again and not a survivor of their shitty war.

So he inclined to the side and their shoulders touched. Warm against each other. A constant, grounding them to the present without battles and losses, grounding them into their lives at the present.

“You don't need to thank me, you did the same.”

 

*

 

“Where are you going?”

“To India”.

He almost choked on his tea and he could see she was trying to hide a smirk, to which he arched an eyebrow and swallowed the beverage.

“Are you?”

“Actually, yes.”

“That's odd.”

“You went to Sweden and you think India is odd?”

“Fair enough. However, you got me thinking: whomever will bother me?”

“I am sure I can make sure Pablo come to talk to you everyday.” he did choked this time and coughed hard when the tea went down on the wrong pipe. She laughed with gusto and mirth.

“You little minx.”

 

*

 

“Try not to miss me, will you?”

“Please, I will finally get my office to be mine again.

“Sometimes you're such a child.”

“Mother would never agree faster”

She rolled her eyes and he grinned.

 

~~~~

 

**January, 2003.**

The winter was at its peak and Draco could only enjoy so much of it, Christmas with Mother has been a quiet affair, they had their traditional festive breakfast on their cozy new painting room, where the big oak tree stood high and proud at the end of the room, heavily decorated.

After a quiet morning and a pleasant lunch, Mother went to her sister's house, the first time she was invited and, much to his amusement, she was flailing around, anxiously. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a tight embrace, whispering how proud he was of her courage. Narcissa almost broke down into tears, however she only nodded stiffly and went on her way.

Her relationship with her long estranged sister was odd and tentative, however Draco was indeed proud of the effort his mother was making to reconnect and reconcile with her sister. He wasn't sure if he would do the same, were he on her shoes. Mercifully, he was an only child and his non-existent of siblings did not elope to get married. So Narcissa went every fortnight to visit her sister on her crooked house, a small little thing filled with memories and Muggle trinkets that would set his father teeth on the edge.

And she would came back sometimes grinning, other times with her eyes puffy and red. And Draco could only embrace her and hope that everything was settling into place, that he and Mother would be okay, that both of them would finally move on past the last decade and be themselves again, with hopes and dreams.

Hermione Granger came to say goodbye on the 28th, surprising him with a hug and a prettily wrapped gift, telling him to only open when he missed her. He'd brought her a Christmas present as well, of course, and the book was wrapped in a cloth because it was a rare and very old book from his family collection, no less. After rearranging the bookshelves with the newly opened space for his growing collection of Muggle philosophers and theorists, he stored a lot of personal journals and dark arts books on the basement, with the rare and manuscripted ones, a collection worth of more than seven centuries of dedicated collectors.

“Be great.” was his last parting words as she kissed him on the cheek, and away she went.

The New Year's Eve was spent with Theo and his new boyfriend, Marcus, Blaise and his new girlfriend, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy and her new boytoy and Draco sulking, watching with great interest the fireworks come to life on Athens and ignoring the empty space that Astoria left and, unknowingly, so did Hermione.

Pablo and Tamara did help him a great lot and he had mostly everything he wanted in his research going okay and a theoretical line that was precise and with no holes or threads hangings. They've thought they could write a book as well, based on their research and discoveries, but that was a project for later.

“Draco!” The Mexican boy poked his head from the door and smiled easily to the Malfoy heir.

The man in question was going over his company numbers and didn't even bother to look up from his desk.

“Yes?”

“It's seven o'clock. We are going to get drinks!”

“Sure.”

“Uh-huh, you coming with us, boss.”

“I am  _ not  _ your boss and I  _ am  _ busy.” he gazed to the young man who had entered his office and was already in front of him. Draco nodded to the parchments indicating the work ahead of him.

“The numbers aren't gonna run, they will still be here when you come back. Come!”

And that's how Draco got dragged by a Mexican, his girlfriend and the lanky guy who spluttered more often than not, to a pub in the middle of Muggle London without Hermione Granger. And when he asked why they were so far away from the Magical World, the petite Egyptian said criptly “we know you don't like to go out there anymore.” and he hadn't dare to ask anything further.

He shut up after that and sat quietly, hearing the three of them talk about their work and how cranky Draco was and where the hell was Hermione anyway? He scowled and told them to mind their own business and complained once again about working with them.

A dozen of pints later, Draco was feeling dizzy and funny, trying to learn Arabic and laughing when he got it wrong. The winter was strong but he felt very warm and, surprisingly, not sad, which was unusual and odd. He rolled up his sleeves, trying to cool himself inside the pub even if the doors were closed and people were smoking and drinking there.

After a few beats he realised Tamara and Pablo were looking curiously to his mark and Timothy was looking elsewhere, red from guilt and shame for being caught staring at it.

“I apolo-” he started to roll down his sleeve but a petite and tanned hand stop his action.

“Don't" she shook her head. “It may be ugly but don't be ashamed. It's a part of who you're now.” the woman told him gently.

“I am not a Death Eater” he hissed, his jaw locked tight and eyes burning.

“I know. I've been working with you for months now. But the Draco Malfoy you are now is only possible because of who you once were and what you've learned.” her brown eyes were soft and didn't hold any malice.

His throat closed with gratitude without his permission.

“I… yeah. But people won't see it as you do.”

“So change it.”

“I beg your pardon? I can't remove it, I already tried countless times.” he scoffed.

“ _ Change  _ it, Draco.”

He could only look at her, confused and doubtful. She turned her head, grabbed her hair to the side and showed him her neck, at the base it was covered in ink. A beautiful pattern and something in Arabic was written.

“Is it magical?” she turned to face him, the other two had started to talk and ignore them, which made him more comfortable.

“No, I am afraid is just ink splashed on skin. The Dark Mark doesn't fade and can't be removed because there's a lot of powerful incantations in it. Mine is just a tattoo, Muggle art, you know. So maybe you can cover yours with one of this”

So he sat for many nights in front of his fireplace, frustrated at himself because the thought simply covering the damn thing would always distract him from the task at hand. Could be so simple to get rid of it? A mere ink would cover it up and he would never again hate his own body when he looked at mirror? Was it true? If so, would he do it? Was it cowardice to cover his mistakes? Mistakes that helped to shape him on what he'd become though.

 

*

 

_ Draco, _

_ How are you? _

_ India is lovely and very chaotic, which has been very educational to someone like me. It's an orderly mess that get us confused and irritated on the first month, but now I am honestly enjoying it. _

_ I’ve learned how to meditate and it's the most relaxed I've felt in years. I've even got to sleep better. Apparently, meditation is very good for the brain and the body. My guide took me to a hindu temple and it's so millennial and breathtaking. I can feel the magic. _

_ Oh, that's another thing. It's a millennial society, so they deal with magic much better than us. I’ve got in touch with some scholars and hopefully I'll learn about how they approach magic and if it has any connection with the spirituality here. _

_ I hope you didn't go back to bad habits of getting drunk when you're mopey. Alcoholism is a serious thing and if you don't control yourself, you may turn into one. _

_ Take care. _

_ With love, _

_ Hermione. _

~~~~

 

**March, 2003** .

_ Granger, _

_ Your letters make you sound better than the years we've spoken to each other here in Britain. I've got the feeling that you've finally got to heal and that your past doesn't dictate how to live your life anymore, which is refreshing. _

_ I hope you do better than me when you get back. Sometimes I feel the only truly home I will ever have is the little chateau in Wales with an amazing view of the ocean. It's peaceful and not as imposing as Malfoy Manor. _

_ Funnily enough, I've started to go to a public library in Muggle London and it's all very interesting. Besides the part where I look like a fool for not knowing how to use the system at the beginning. _

_ Shacklebolt is driving me nuts with the deadline and I feel that sooner or later I'll murder Timothy Adams. So look out for any warranted posters of me. The research is done and I didn't signed up for the design, decorating, display and layout  of the museum, therefore you can imagine how utterly pissed I am of having to help. _

_ I've talked to your parents the other day. Not sure why I went there, but their nonsense attitude helps me to think. And I know now where you get it from. _

_ Mother actually asked me to go with her visit Aunt Andromeda and little Edward next week. I am not sure if that's a good idea, but she seemed hopeful and excited when she asked me. _

_ Hope you're well. _

_ Best regards, _

_ Draco. _

~~~~~

 

**Second of May, 2003.**

Draco could remember the last time he had to dress up and being photographed relentlessly. It was actually the day of his hearing at the Wizengamot where they'd decide if Draco would be locked up in Azkaban for however long or if he would be free.

It has been almost exactly five years since that day. Sometimes it felt that a eternity has passed and other times, as if it was yesterday. He'd grown up a lot since then, even if his fears of never overcoming his past was always lurking on the corners of his mind. He felt so much wiser that the eighteen year old boy sitting at the courtroom, more mature, with a better understanding of the world and of himself. He'd years of therapy and countless months going over old journals, documents, books and newspapers to better understand where the dogma he was raised to believe had come from. He had healed, he had felt the angst and despair of not knowing if what he knew was the truth, he'd felt lost and at loss, guilty and ashamed for being alive and free. And he'd prevailed. He confronted Lucius and his mother, had took over the company and the Estate. He was now the Head and not only the heir.

So here he was, wearing one of his finest piece of black dress robes, his shaggy hair carefully arranged to look stylish and not at all familiar with Lucius. His shoulders had grown broader and his form had filled alright, fit and not bulky, but elegant and slender. His thin layer of beard and the sunglasses completed his look of subtle elegance, not attracting attention to his figure while he and the other members of his team were graciously being praised by the Minister for Magic and people clapped politely on their cues.

Shacklebolt begun his Minister’s speech, where he highlighted the fact that only tolerance towards diversity could lead us, as a community, to be a solid unity that would not be divided to a self promotion of one opportunist. Then, he started to name all of whom fought with the Order of the Phoenix, which ended with the Golden Trio's name and a series of applause started.

Surprisingly, they were all three there, walking to handshake the Minister's hand and Shacklebolt stood to the side to give them the front space. Hermione Granger was flanked by Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Draco could see they were uncomfortable of being in the spotlight but we're putting a brave and confident face for the sake of the event.

“We are  _ not  _ here today to celebrate our victory” Potter began, using a sonorous.

“We are here actually to mourn the losses of magical blood” Weasley told us gravely and it sent chills down the spine the painful and truthful words.

“We are _ all still _ healing individually and as a society. So this is a tribute to all of our losses and to never forget.” Granger's voice was powerful and carried through the land.

“Never repeat.”

“We all may mourn finally in peace as a society. And we may come here and teach the future generations how truly awful the war was.”

“Let's teach our children and keep alive the terrible memories so we may never repeat it.”

“We are all magical beings and it's a blessing we all should relish and treasure it.”

They were the propaganda faces of the new government, and he was sure Granger was the one that made the speech. Cleverly so, it shouldn't be a symbol of victory, but one of a collective suffering and violence, terror and losses. He could see people sniffing all around, even some reporters. The Weasley family was there, of course, with its matriarch sniffing rather soundly and Potter’s fiancée hugging tightly the remaining twin. And suddenly Draco knew Hermione wasn’t there because of the Ministry and role as the face of the new government. She was there to support her adoptive family, to be a friend, a sister and even a daughter to the Weasleys; to be an unofficial aunt for Teddy Lupin; to be one of the Gryffindor’s pupils of McGonagall that survived; to be a friend for her friends who lost a parent or the whole family.

So when he caught her looking at him, he nodded in acquaintance and respect. It was as much support as he could give from his place, without disturbing the scene unfolding in front of him. It was as much support as he could get there, at the sunlight, in the middle of the cameras and the Wizard society. A society not quite well prepared to accept him back.

She nodded back and smiled, which made the corners of his lips twitch slightly.

*

It was a simple decision. A quick one.

He felt as if he was closing a very distraught chapter of his life. He had done wrong, then he paid his dues and now he’d done his deed. Not a redemption, because he didn’t believe in that kind of thing. He’d grown and matured and now he knew better and he decided to help positively the society he somewhat once helped to destroy. Now people had a place to go to think about the terrible things they all had a hand in making it happen. And hopefully there would be no wars because of blood status and pure supremacy. And like their society was finally done reconstructioning and reeducating, he too was finally done with his part in it.

He spent weeks researching different artists, places and designs. He was as methodical as ever in his task. However, once he was satisfied, he set up a date and put aside some money which he had to convert.

When he set his foot on the parlor and was told to roll up his sleeve, he felt an exhilaration and excitement he didn’t felt often. And when the needles were digging his skin bit by bit, he cursed Tamara for never mentioning how torturous it was to get rid of his Mark with a cover up.

But maybe he could finally,  _ finally _ move on.

Although he felt as if this was his mantra for the past five years, he was sure this time he meant it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!  
> In terms of storytelling, we just finish the first part. I hope you're liking the journey so far.  
> This first part was essentially of how Draco dealt with his life immediately on the aftermath. As you could see, and hopefully I could write it well, there was a lot of struggle. Not just with his believes, but with his parents, his acceptance, his decisions, his part of the Wizard society and so on. Hermione also was very fragile after it and I think she felt as if the place she so hard fought for wasn't that worth it, like what a damaged society she wanted to be a part of! And for what? So I think our beloved pair had to struggle with these questions and situations to understand what they want to do with their lives and so on.  
> Now I don't think we will jump so much from time to time, so let's see where this story will lead us.


	10. Contempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beggining of part 2.  
> The style has changed a bit, as the focus. Draco has healed and so did Hermione! We will always explore it, but it win't be the focous of this part.  
> Please, note that we jumped from May, 2003 to September, 2005.  
> I apologise for the delay, I'm writing my thesis to graduate.

**Part II**

**Chapter o9**

 

_Contempt_

_(a fuzzy feeling)_

 

**September, 2005.**

 

At twenty six years old, Draco finally was able to feel comfortable on his own skin. It felt strange, at first, like his skin was prickling and a sense of contempt covered him as a blanket. It was so foreign that his therapist was the one to identify it for him.

He could only stare at Ms. Bramley and she smiled at him, telling him that he’d come a long way to get there and that he deserved and she was happy for him.

That was a month before and now that the strangeness of it had passed, he did enjoy the feeling. He felt relaxed waking up to his little cottage at the welsh shore everyday, hearing the sea and the rocks battling against each other, going to the Manor only at the weekends since he didn’t want to left his Mother alone and Father still was incarcerated. Her health has improved drastically since the War has ended and he’s never seen her so much alive and she absolutely glowed, enjoying her estranged sister every chance they got to spend time together.

Andromeda was wary on the first couple of months and Draco had to hear his Mother cry more often than not, which set him on the edge and made him cranky with anyone who come near him. Alas, it’s been years and they had a steadily growing relationship and Mother, gorgeous woman that she was, decided to create a foundation to help the orphaned kids from the War. Draco, of course, had supported her wholeheartedly since he saw how much effect little Ted had on his Mother, being an orphan from the War and being watched first-hand as he grew up.

Sensibly, Narcissa talked to her sister because, surprisingly, she wanted the foundation to be on Andromeda’s name, which was done very carefully so that Andromeda wouldn’t think she and her family weren’t being brought nor her lost weren’t being mocked. Mercifully, Andromeda actually swept when Narcissa brought it up and it hadn’t ended up as badly as he thought it would be. Slytherin as his Mother was, she also realised that anything with the name linked to the Malfoys would be frowned up and not accepted in the society, and being on Andromeda’s name made everything easier. The sisters would manage and it would bring both his Mother and Aunt something to do and make them busy now that they both had lost most of their families.

As his family business expanded in the magical hands of Theo, Draco felt more and more comfortable in pursuing personal interests in their company. As he discovered to be a passionate scholar, mostly interested in alchemy, arithmancy, ancient runes and theory, namely the intricate pieces that created magic as beautiful and powerful as he experienced in Sweden or Hermione did in India and Iran. He loved to study how and why and Theo loved his idea to create a branch to experiment new magic in a very malleable way. It was a very slowly process, however Draco got to visit and talk with ancient wizards and witches, whom provided to be very helpful and gave him insights that would change his perspectives.

His life had so dramatically changed over the past three years that he couldn’t fathom he would ever feel that contempt in working and living and not hiding anymore, not fearing his shadows or his name, his heritage, his family. He and his parents had done wrong, however they had payed in galleon, in years serving in prison, in fear of people who had suffered retaliating, in emotional distress and, mostly, being an outcast of the Wizard society.

It was outstanding that Draco had managed to put his life back together after such a traumatic event. Sometimes, when he was gazing out at the window to the night sky having supper, he could think that the War happened into another lifetime. Obviously, when he looked at his right arm and saw that intricate piece of art covering his hideous Dark Mark, he was very much brought to the present time. Which now, didn’t made him flinch anymore. The present, that is. Although when he thought back to the day when he made his tattoo, he didn’t flinch either. A good deal of progress, really.

And talking about his muggle adventurous, he had that now. Muggle adventurous. Not only he had a therapist, in the middle of Muggle London, now he had a stable relationship with his once nemesis’ parents, the Grangers. Which was the weirdest thing ever, possible stranger than his friendship with Hermione Granger. He’d felt oddly alone when she went abroad and although his Mother was very good talking sense into him, she lacked Granger’s no nonsense attitude, which he discovered was a family trait once they all met. So he went there to seek advice, a shoulder, cold glares and the no nonsense attitude. In exchange, he recalled bits of the War and help the to understand what had happened to his daughter in broad terms, since she was the one who would have to tell them the darkest part - that happened at his own home. And the Grangers opened up to his presence, which was small victory.

Draco could vividly remember when Hermione came home and find out that they and Draco were on amicable terms. Her eyes mirrored her shock and he couldn’t decipher if it was because he was Draco Malfoy and sought her parents out or if it was her parents that knew he fought at the dark side of the War. Nevertheless, she accepted far more quicker than he thought she would.

Perhaps it was a testimony of how far they’ve come and how they relationship had evolved in the past couple of years. Indeed, that was so far out his field that he didn’t know how to deal with it when he stopped to think about it. Which wasn’t often, mercifully, and he did think they were more alike than both of them would like to admit. And now that he had moved on from que self entitled and spoiled brat self, plus had realised that he was not, in fact, superior nor above anyone, he now could enjoy traits that he’d find horrendous when they were young.

“What is it that is making you laugh”

“Your hair” he answered automatically and winced to her outrageous face, so he backtracked. “I mean, no! Your hair isn’t making me laugh, just that I was thinking how much I used to mock it and now I think it suits you perfectly, so I just think it’s funny how my view has changed”.

“Nice save, arsehole” she tried to glare, but he could see the smile twitching at her lips.

They were currently at her new rented flat, a one-bedroom apartment above a flower store in the middle of Muggle London. She has finally decided to move out of the Granger household, having fulfilled the need to stay close to her parents after so many years going away to school and being a fugitive at the War. Much to her chagrin, she did end up being awarded a couple of prizes because of her services to the Wizardry community at the War and some involved a large chunk of galleons - which she tried to refuse relentlessly and the Ministry didn’t bulge.

And now she was again an employee at the Ministry, however Kingsley let her get into any position that she wanted since he did need her to help him. Of course, Hermione discussed all the possibilities with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, even Draco was called a night to help to lay out the most promising options. She ended up at the Law Enforcement Department, and she requested to begin in the lowest ranks as any other employee would. That was almost two years ago and she was, unsurprisingly, one of the most talented juniors of the department and was taken under the wing of one of the oldest employees there.

So here they were, at her flat, discussing strategies to better approach the educational reform that she and the Minister wanted to apply.

“You want to have most of the Wizengamot on your side first to propose it. The old families will not want it.” He told her early that evening and, of course, she manage to get a picture of all the members of the Wizengamot and the the council, which hasn’t been reunited since the first War and had Draco’s name on it.

“Must be enchanted, like the Family ring and the legal documents of the Estate and the business” he murmured and Hermione hummed.

“Yes, well, we should focus on the Wizengamot and map every single person in it. We don’t even know if the council will ever be restored to work again. And it’s a very archaic and elitist thing, I’ll be happy if it’s gone.” she told him resolutely and Draco could only nod and smile to himself as they began scratching ink on the parchment and discuss every blood person.

“Oh, you’re so going to be the next Minister for Magic, Hermione” he told her later, kind of excited of their accomplishment and in wonder of it as well. The only reply he got was a meow of Hermione’s cat and her evenly breathing, signaling of her sleep. He levitated her to her bed and snuggled up on the recently vacant couch.

 


End file.
